Footsteps echoed across the graveyard projecting themselves across the bumpy ground. They were irregular, and not in time with my footsteps. There was someone else here. Suddenly a loud wail cried out from across the patchy grass. Turning slowly around, I saw a tree. And underneath was a simple stone tomb, writing etched into the cold stone. Details of this persons life. Someone was reading it. They slowly turned their head toward me, then they lurched toward me. I remember nothing else from that night. And now I’m the one that haunts the grounds of Ryes Graveyard.