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.