Flowers were laid at the foot of the tombstone. A thin line of brown decay marked the perimeter of each pedal as well as the bottoms of the stems, signaling that they had likely been set a day prior.

The bait had been placed and the demon would come. On Halloween, the maiden Roxann couldn’t resist the chance to feast on corrupted beauty. Her hunger insatiable and motivating would drive her up and up out of her grave in search for food that like her was once beautiful, but now reeked with death.

Three, four and then five hours I waited to no change besides the occasional gust of wind that would bring the putrid rotting smell to my nose.

Then, like a fast forwarding video of a plant sprouting out of the ground, I watched as dirt covered bone fingers smoothly grew from the grave, stretching towards to the dying flowers.