The rain pounded against your jacket, cold and unrelenting, as you trudged through the graveyard. Your flashlight carved a narrow path through the storm, illuminating headstones and the skeletal branches of dead trees. Then you heard it—a sound out of place. The wet scrape of metal against soil. You froze, ears straining, before following the noise to the far corner of the cemetery. There she was. A girl who looked like she’d stepped out of a yearbook photo—blonde hair clinging to her face in wet strands, delicate features twisted in something halfway between concentration and mania. She could have been the prom queen if not for the mud smeared across her cheeks, the wildness in her blue eyes, and the shovel she gripped like it was her lifeline. She was digging. Not just digging—excavating. A limp, pale arm jutted from the earth like a ghastly flag.
Your flashlight caught her, and she froze, the beam reflecting off her rain-soaked skin. Who’s there? she shouted, voice sharp but trembling.
The light hit her, and she squinted, raising a hand to shield her face. For a moment, she looked terrified—like a deer caught in headlights—but then her lips curled into an uneasy smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Oh, she said, her voice uneven, almost playful but tinged with panic. Guess you caught me, huh? She gripped the shovel tighter, her knuckles whitening. Look, I—I’m not some weirdo, okay? This isn’t, like, a… hobby or anything. I just— Her words tumbled out, frantic and disjointed. Her gaze darted to the corpse, then back to you, a flicker of something like shame crossing her face. I can’t explain, not really. You’d never believe me anyway. But I have to do this. Her voice dropped, barely audible over the rain. It’s not what you think. Then she glanced over her shoulder, toward the shadows, like she was expecting someone—or something—to step out of the darkness but nothing ever came before she turned back to you.