She looked around the cemetery and frowned. Sitting amidst the
forgotten graves, Jill felt like a trespasser. In the most literal sense, she
supposed she was. It was in the spiritual sense that bothered her most. Around
her were the lost and forgotten graves of unnamed brothers, sisters, sons,
daughters, husbands, and wives. She nearly expected at any moment that a hand
would burst through the ground at her trespass.
The thought made her angry. “I never should have watched those
stupid horror movies with Jake,” she grumbled.
As she sat, a cool evening breeze supplanted the warm night air.
She shivered and rubbed her arms furiously. The breeze grew progressively
stronger, whipping her hair into her face. As she exhaled, Jill could see her
breath escaping in puffs of white.
Furrowing her brow, she stood and jumped in place, trying to
regain the circulation in her extremities. She hadn’t dressed for the cold, nor
had she expected such a frigid breeze.
“Screw this,” she shivered. “This isn’t worth it.”
Jill reached into her purse and her hand closed over her cell
phone.
I’m sorry
, a whisper carried
through the evening air.
Jill froze in place, her purse slipping from her fingers and
falling to the ground at her feet. She glanced around the cemetery but, as far
as she could tell, she was still alone.
“Hello?” she replied nervously. “Is someone there?”
Her query was met with muted silence. Even the wind seemed to hold
its breath in anticipation.
Gingerly, Jill stepped over some of the nearby undergrowth and
peered around the tall angel marker. The cemetery was still empty, despite the
unnerving voice.
Her heart thundered in her chest but she saw no one else. Turning
slowly, she returned to her previous spot. As she began to sit, the voice
whispered once again.
I’m so sorry.
“No way,” Jill said adamantly. “I’m done here.”
Grabbing her purse, Jill turned toward the main gate to the
cemetery. As she stepped over the fallen headstones nearby, the vines and
grasses clung to her thin shoes, seemingly begging her to remain. Cursing, she
pulled her feet free and hurried toward the gate. Rounding the last of the tall
monuments, Jill froze. There, standing amongst the shorter headstones, stood a
small girl with her back to Jill. The girl’s face was buried in her hands and
her shoulders heaved with silent sobs.
Gooseflesh ran along Jill’s arms at the sight of the lonely girl.
Stepping forward cautiously, she called out to her.
“Excuse me,” Jill stuttered. Her heart pounded in her chest.
“Little girl? Are you okay?”
The girl continued to sob in silence. From behind, the girl looked
no older than eight or nine—far too young to be alone in a cemetery. Part
of her wanted to rush to her aid, but that part of her was greatly overwhelmed
by her skepticism. Looking at the crying child, she suddenly felt sick to her
stomach.
Jill shook uncontrollably as she stepped forward.
“Damn those stupid horror movies,” she bemoaned.
Clearing her voice politely, Jill took another step forward.
“Little girl? I heard you whispering earlier. Are you okay?”
Again, the girl didn’t acknowledge Jill’s presence. With great
resolve, Jill approached the girl. It was only when she reached out to the girl
that she realized something was very much amiss. As the moon emerged from
behind thick clouds, the girl grew translucent, exposing the silhouettes of the
gravestones behind her through her willowy frame.
The girl’s shoulders were no longer wracked with sobs. Turning
toward Jill, the girl raised her head and her wispy hair cascaded out of her
face. The young girl’s delicate features were marred by the ruin that was the
right side of her face. The soft skin fell apart beneath her right eye,
drooping in swaths of torn flesh and exposed sinew. Beneath the shredded cheek,
her clenched teeth were exposed. Foul fluid oozed from the wound, running over
the shattered jaw and broken teeth. The wound stretched beneath the hair that
fell over her ear.
Jill threw a hand to her mouth to suppress a scream.
As their eyes met, the girl opened her mouth to speak. No words
escaped, but her teeth gnashed together through the spectral wound on her face.
Unable to contain her horror, Jill screamed and ran. She wasn’t
sure if there was another exit to the graveyard but she was beyond caring. She
ran as quickly as possible away from the abomination blocking the main gate.
Jill leapt over a fallen tombstone and hurried toward the rear of
the cemetery. Though the cemetery wasn’t large, she found herself completely
disoriented in her panic. Her chest heaved and each breath felt like a knife
being pulled across her lungs. Jill ran until she reached the rear fence of the
cemetery and banged the palms of her hands against the rusted iron spokes.
“Help me!” she screamed into the night. Light bled through the
fence from the nearby street lamps and a small number of apartments across the
street were still illuminated—but no one responded to her cries.
“Jake! Brent! Whitney!” she cried, though she doubted her friends
were still nearby.
“Please,” she moaned. “Please, someone help me!”
Beside her, a hand emerged from a grave. The hand dug into the
dirt as it pulled upward, exposing a soiled head as it emerged from the earth.
The corpse’s eyes glowed with a similar shimmering light that Jill had seen in
the little girl’s face. The corpse struggled to free itself, hanging halfway
out of the hole from which it had been crawling free. The man’s decaying head
turned toward Jill. Between its eyes, she could see an old bullet wound. As she
watched, ethereal blood oozed from the wound and ran into the ghost’s eyes.
Screaming again, Jill rushed past the corpse and sprinted toward
the front of the cemetery. From the corner of her eyes, she could see other
ghosts emerging from their graves. An elderly woman, dangerously thin, tugged
at her rotting burial dress. A young man pushed against a headstone, his face
falling away in strips of half-eaten flesh. The spectral skin vanished into the
ground as it fell, making way for more decay and filth.
To her right, the cemetery’s gate appeared. Turning sharply, Jill
felt a sharp twinge in her knee and pain lanced up through her hip. Biting back
the pain, she hobbled to the gate.
Jill slammed into the closed wrought iron but the gate refused to
give way. Her hands shaking, she sought a lock or latch but nothing was
apparent. No chain wrapped around its frame. No latch held it closed. The gate
itself just refused to open.
“Oh God,” Jill cried. She tried to breathe in but the muscles of
her chest seized. Clutching her chest, Jill sobbed soundlessly.
I’m sorry
, a ghostly voice
whispered from behind her.
I’m so sorry.
Jill turned quickly and found herself staring into the face of the
spectral girl. With each soft breath, spittle leaked through the girl’s ruined
cheek and dropped onto the sleeve of her blouse.
The girl wasn’t alone either. Jill was surrounded by the
decomposed specters of the cemetery. Their mouths moved but, like the girl, no
sounds emerged. In staggering, shambling steps, the ghosts moved toward her.
Bile rose in the back of her throat as hopelessness seeped into
her mind. She drove her back against the fence and slid down to the ground,
sobbing violently.
“Stay away from me,” Jill cried, covering her eyes with her hands.
She kept her hands over her eyes as she awaited the clawed fingers
of the undead. As the realization that she wasn’t being attacked crept into her
mind, she slowly lowered her hands and looked around. To her surprise, the
corpses had stopped a few feet in front of her.
The little girl stepped forward, stopping just outside Jill’s
reach. The others remained where they were, standing stoically with their arms
held down at their sides.
Opening her mouth, the little girl began speaking again, her jaw
mashing against the jagged wound on her cheek. Despite her insistence as she
spoke, no sound emerged.
Tears streamed down Jill’s face. “I don’t understand. What do you
want?”
It’s all my fault
, a ghostly voice
called out.
The voice didn’t come from the little girl, or any of the other
ghosts hovering around her. Jill wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and
looked past the gathered specters.
The spirits parted in front of her. Beyond the throng of
apparitions, another spectral figure walked through the cemetery. The figure
was female, but her silhouette was far less defined than the spirits nearby.
Can you forgive me?
The little girl gestured to the newest figure. Despite her
apprehension, Jill walked through the parted crowd of ghosts and approached the
newest figure. The closer she walked, the more defined the figure became.
The woman’s dark hair fell over her shoulders, concealing her
face. Her arm was cradled in a sling. A long black dress framed her body,
hanging down below her knees.
“Hello?” Jill whispered.
The woman bent over, placing a single flower against a headstone.
The headstone shimmered with the same unearthly light that permeated all the
spirits in the cemetery.
Jill tried to read the name on the headstone but the words danced
in her vision, like she was trying to read the words through deep water.
Standing again, the woman stared down at the ghostly grave.
“Hello?” Jill said again. “Can you hear me?”
The woman turned toward Jill. Jill’s eyes widened in surprise and
her hand flew to her mouth.
“Whitney?” Jill said through a choked sob.
Jill rushed forward but Whitney’s spectral gaze wasn’t looking at
her friend. As Jill tried to embrace her, she fell through the intangible
figure and collapsed onto the weed-covered ground.
Surprised, Jill pushed herself to a standing position. She reached
out hesitantly and tried to touch the fabric of her friend’s black dress but
her hand passed through unhindered.
“What is this?” Jill asked, turning sharply on the little girl.
“What does this mean?”
The little girl tilted her head to the side knowingly. Jill shook
her head at the implication.
“No,” she said, a different wave of horror washing over her.
“You’re wrong, if that’s what you think. Whitney isn’t dead. I was just with
her.”
The little girl stared at Jill with sad eyes.
“I don’t believe you! You bring me here, scare the crap out of me,
just to show me my dead friend? What is this, some Sixth Sense bullshit?”
Jill shook her head. “No, she’s not dead. I was with her an hour
ago. Is this a look at the future? Are you showing me what will happen to her?
Fine, tell me what to do. Help me save her.”
The little girl shook her head.
“Please,” Jill pleaded, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
“Please just tell me how to save her. She’s my best friend. She’s all I’ve
got.”
Jill turned back to Whitney, only to see her friend’s shadowy form
retreating toward the cemetery’s gate.
“No,” Jill demanded. “I won’t let you leave like this! Look at me,
Whitney! Look at me!”
Hurrying, she caught up with her friend. She furiously swiped
through Whitney’s translucent figure over and over again without resistance.
“Look at me!”
Losing her balance on her last swing, Jill fell to the ground. She
pounded her hand on the ground and cried into the grass.
A shimmering glow illuminated the ground near her head. Looking up
through teary eyes, Jill saw the young girl standing over her.
“Help me,” Jill sobbed.
The little girl simply shook her head.
Angrily, Jill climbed to her knees so she was eye level with the
girl. “She’s my best friend. You can’t have her. I won’t let her be dead!”
The little girl shook her head again, an action that was mirrored
by the other approaching apparitions.
“Damn you! She can’t be dead! You brought me here to see this. Why
would you do that if I can’t do anything to save her?”
The little girl merely shook her head again.
Jill felt the panic well inside her. She stood and turned back to
Whitney, who had nearly reached the gate of the cemetery. Jill didn’t know what
would happen if she let Whitney leave through the gate but her mind screamed
that she needed to stop her.
“Whitney! Whitney!” Jill screamed into the night air. She waved
her hands over her head. “I’m right here—look at me!”
Jill hurried to catch up but the little girl appeared before her,
blocking her way. Beyond the girl, Jill could see Whitney getting closer to the
exit.
“Get out of my way,” Jill demanded angrily.
The little girl shook her head, her eyes pleading even as her
mouth moved wordlessly.