Innocently wandering through a Dungeness, not Dungeness, graveyard. As one is wont to do.
Minding my own business. Reading the odd, very odd, gravestone. When,
As if from nowhere, a cryptic cat launched itself at my torso. It cunningly used pin-prick claws to latch onto my skinny left thigh. While chewing my zipper and partially succeeding in mesmerizing me with talking eyes the killer kitty eye’d my nose as a potential source of protien:
Scared, me? Oh yes.
Lot’s of ‘nice kitty’s were administered to secure my thigh’s freedom.
Finally I discovered that offering my fingers as a sacrifice helped lure the kitty’s claws from my leg as it performed the twistiest of jumps in a digit devouring frenzy. My fingers and legs bare punctuation scars…
I’ve not heard an American use the phrase ‘graveyard’ nor seen sign’s with the phrase. Roads are called ‘cemetary road’ and sign’s indicate cemetaries. Modern cemetaries are often labelled ’memorial garden’. The mutliple, relevant, related meanings that come with using the word ’grave‘ appeal to me:
- dig; excavate.
- carve or shape with a chisel: sculpture; carve or cut (as letters or figures) into a hard surface: engrave.
- to impress or fix (as a thought) deeply.