{door found by me on a garden tour}
"That's right. I said careful now." The old woman stood on her immaculate porch, watering can in hand. "Those stones you're stepping on now have buried people."
I looked down again at the pathway which led towards the red door.
"You mean this path is made of headstones?" I asked in disbelief.
The old woman said nothing, instead humming a quiet tune as she continued to water her plants.
I peered closer at the large flat stones, reaching a hand down to trace the century worn grooves. They were indeed headstones.
"How did they get here?" I called out, still investigating to see if a name or date could be read.
"How did you get here?" She asked.
"I have a question for you, and the man next door said you wouldn't mind me asking."
The wrinkles around here eyes twitched and she leaned her head to the side, smiling. "I don't answer questions, unless they are real good. You do realize I am ninety seven?"
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