The only place they could meet away from curious eyes and the noisy surrounding world was the graveyard. A rectangular lot, fairly small compared to most burial zones and shrouded in eerie darkness, a hovering foggy mist, most of the bodies discarded of there had died long ago enough to be almost completely void of familial visitation. While the vacated lot of moist turf and looming grey stones was in the middle of a decently populated town, after midnight there was no chance of being spotted within it, especially considering the oddly symmetrical yet perfectly placed wall of lush trees lining its picket fence’s exterior, protection from the wandering eye of those scuffling along the adjacent streets. Hunched figures, heads tucked into shaggy parkas and hands stuffed in pockets as they pass in unhidden haste, terrified. Scurrying inconspicuously by—desperate to repel some dreaded evil spirits’s attention, to avoid the sense of mysterious dread beckoning to them from within the twisted metal entrance gates, which gently swing and creak on their anciently rusted hinges.

There were rumours of ghosts causing unexplainable ripples in a peaceful night’s brisk air, or strange shadowed figures having been spotted crouching behind the cool stone slab marking some long-gone and likely forgotten soldiers’ final resting place.

Spencer’s heart, however, wasn’t racing due to fear of monsters waiting to pounce or otherworldly spirits seeking to possess an unsuspecting visitor’s soul. No, the erratic thundering and pounding against his ribcage was because he knew, at any moment, he would lay eyes on her. Alexis.

Creeping through the darkness with fear’s echoing theme song in his ears, Spencer found himself recalling in his mind each and every conversation he and Alexis had participated in over the past six months. Every night, without skipping even one, their texts travelled throught cyberspace for hour after hour, covering enough unique topics to span an entire country’s surface. The last half-year of his life had been better than all 17 of his previous years combined because of her, and he knew she felt the same, or she wouldn’t have agreed to meet him here in Texas, flying from her family home thousands of miles away in some aesthetic corner of France.

His entire camara roll was composed of picture after picture of her, some including her close friends or family. His soul set on fire at every chance to view from another angle those fiery blue eyes, quirky, constantly sarcastic half-lipped smile, and wavy hair that changed colour what seemed like every week. Today he already knew it would be magenta, because she’d chosen that dye due to it being his favourite shade on her so far.

Shoving his memories aside, Spencer tugged his black winter jacket tighter, feeling goosebumps prickle along the skin of his lean, muscular arm and legs, despite the downy fabric protecting him from the nipping autumn breeze’s direct touch. His hazelnut brown eyes scanned the stretch of scattered gravestones laid out before him as he winced as an especially sharp gust of wind caused his cheeks to flush bright red from the familiar stinging pain.

That’s when he saw it—or her, as he could only assume. The fague silhouette of a perfectly still human leaning casually up against a memorial wall celebrating the lives lost during World War Two. With the moon shrouded in a veil of dark clouds, it was nearly impossible to make out their face besides the unusually sharp upward curve of a nose and arms crossed, likely an automatic protective response out of nervousness. Spencer felt a smile spread across his face in pleasure at the fact that he knew she was afraid of the dark. Not because he experienced joy from knowing she was currently suffering from extreme discomfort for his sake, but because retaining information about her had become almost like an obsession to him. Or a drug….like weed or cocaine, every snippet of new information giving him a miniature high.

Speeding up into a stride, and then a full-on jog as the excitement bubbling within his chest threatened to overflow, turning into energy that instantly warmed his frozen-solid legs. “Alexis!” He called, cupping his numb hands around his mouth to amplify the sound.

She didn’t move, not even a muscle as far as he could tell. No shift of her body to face him or beckoned tilt of the head in his general direction—nothing at all to signify she was aware of his quick approach and loud shouts’ echoing throught the rapidly closing bridge of space between them.

Stumbling to a halt a mere couple of feet before her, he gripped his knees, hunched over as heavy breaths heaved into and gasped out of his overworked lungs. Brushing a curled, stray lock from his forehead and straightening himself upright, Spencer was more than a little perplexed to find she hadn’t even stirred an inch, hadn’t even shown an ounce of interest in his obvious presence.

Was she ok? Had he offended her unintentionally in some way? He hadn’t seen any angry or upset texts from her on the way here, not since their conversation spanning into the wee hours of last night, planning how these precious, limited hours would be spent.

“Alexis?” He inquired breathlessly. His once upbeat, exuberant tone now laced with anxiety and the beginnings of unfiltered dread. “That’s you, right?”

It was at this moment that the shield of clouds shrouding her shadowy silhouette posed stilly before him drifted aside, coaxed by a sudden heightening in the breeze’s ferocity. A beam of pure white moonlight penetrated the darkness, lighting up his mysterious companion’s features and causing Spencer to stagger backwards in terror.

His midnight lover this strange creature was undoubtedly not, nor human by appearance in any manner whatsoever. It’s face was a gnarled knot of warped flesh and rotted teeth sticking out in multiple crooked directions, breath reeking of something purtrid that reminded him of a cross between day-old, dried vomit and molding vegetables at the bottom of a compost bin. Yellow-rimmed, bloodshot eyes sunken into hollows and skin paler than a slice of Swiss cheese. Greasy, stringy hair framed a monsterous complexion, so unhuman it made something vile slide into the canal of Spencer’s throat and sting a little, burning like acid.

He never met Alexis.