The man, who often took midnight strolls through the cemetery, noticed something peculiar one evening. It was just reaching the witching hour when he arrived at the grave site and saw a dark figure sitting on one of the benches. It was the bench he normally sat on when he needed to think and tonight his mind was racing more than usual. He approached the bench cautiously.
“Hello?” he queried. The figure jolted and turned. It was a pale woman dressed all in black, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She stood up abruptly and started to leave.
“Wait! You don’t need to be afraid,” the man offered his hand in a friendly shake, smitten by the woman’s good looks. But she crossed her arms as if she were cold and just stood there. “What’s your name?” the man asked.
“Why are you here?” she whispered. Her voice was faint, as though it came from a distance.
“I, uh, come here sometimes to think. It’s quiet here.” He sat down on the bench and motioned for her to sit beside him. She reluctantly took a seat, leaving a wide gap between them. The man tried to make conversation with her but each question he asked was returned with a shrug, or a nod, or nothing at all. A few hours passed in this manner, the man babbling on about his photography and art collection, how the stocks are going down, and about his dog, Bruce, who’s been limping for three days now. The woman listened intently, suppressing her curiosity, her mouth slightly curved in a smile. But she avoided eye contact with the man at all costs.
“Wow, I can’t believe it’s five o’clock already!” the man grinned. “We’ve-I mean-I’ve been talking for hours.” The woman stood up suddenly, her face paler than before. “Look at that sunrise,” The man continued, oblivious to her strange behavior. “I’d like to see you again, miss…miss?”
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” the woman’s voice quavered.
“But I don’t even know your name! Will I ever see you again?” The man followed her as she quickly strode to the large mausoleum that stood in the center of the gravesite. “Where are you going? Will you at least watch the sunrise with me?”
He turned to look at the golden sky and smiled. Then he heard a faint cry behind him. The chamber’s doors were ajar but swiftly closing. He saw the woman’s arm disappearing into the crypt, her once pale skin burning red and smoking.