The graveyard was always silent… Until now.
Small, light footsteps graced the ears of the rotting trees, which turned their branches to face the mortal. Except that there wasn’t a mortal there.
The echo of a hand, once slender and fit for piano playing, ran down a gravestone, sighing a gentle breeze into the silent area. The form sat down, crunching leaves under their non-existent weight, and ran a hand through their hair. The moonlight shimmered through them, reaching the ground and bouncing back up through empty air.
Sometimes the graveyard would forget that they weren’t real. It would reach out to them, tickling them with damp leaves and trying to get them to react with soft sticks. But each time, the shadow faltered and the objects passed through. They wouldn’t be real, even if the graveyard wanted them to be.
The graveyard had been lonely. Years had passed since the last human in town had passed away, or left. The occasional squirrel or rabbit would come running through, but the rocks were dark and pointed, and often animals would run away, back to their safe burrows.
They were the only visitor in 5 years. They had silky long hair when they were alive, and their face was full of wonder. Their smooth palms would run down gravestones and the graveyard would feel alive again, if only for a moment.
It was then that they decided to leave. They stood effortlessly, and smiled faintly to the dismayed area. The echo mock-saluted it, and it cheered up, if only slightly. The graveyard had wanted a friend for so long, but when one came, they had to leave.
“Auf Wiedersehen, meinen Freund.” They spoke softly. The forgotten trees whispered back their farewells, and the graveyard rustled with tears. They bent to the ground and hugged a nearby gravestone. Doctor Terra White.
“Güt nocht, Frau Weiß.” The graveyard mumbled. “Bitte comst aufs Neue?”
“Naturlich! Herr Seymour, Ich wurde nicht verlasse du.” They replied in a breath of cold air and dead leaves. And upon their retreat, the graveyard sighed once again.
The graveyard was always silent.
Small, light footsteps graced the ears of the rotting trees, which turned their branches to face the mortal. Except that there wasn’t a mortal there.
The echo of a hand, once slender and fit for piano playing, ran down a gravestone, sighing a gentle breeze into the silent area. The form sat down, crunching leaves under their non-existent weight, and ran a hand through their hair. The moonlight shimmered through them, reaching the ground and bouncing back up through empty air.
Sometimes the graveyard would forget that they weren’t real. It would reach out to them, tickling them with damp leaves and trying to get them to react with soft sticks. But each time, the shadow faltered and the objects passed through. They wouldn’t be real, even if the graveyard wanted them to be.
The graveyard had been lonely. Years had passed since the last human in town had passed away, or left. The occasional squirrel or rabbit would come running through, but the rocks were dark and pointed, and often animals would run away, back to their safe burrows.
They were the only visitor in 5 years. They had silky long hair when they were alive, and their face was full of wonder. Their smooth palms would run down gravestones and the graveyard would feel alive again, if only for a moment.
It was then that they decided to leave. They stood effortlessly, and smiled faintly to the dismayed area. The echo mock-saluted it, and it cheered up, if only slightly. The graveyard had wanted a friend for so long, but when one came, they had to leave.
“Auf Wiedersehen, meinen Freund.” They spoke softly. The forgotten trees whispered back their farewells, and the graveyard rustled with tears. They bent to the ground and hugged a nearby gravestone. Doctor Terra White.
“Güt nocht, Frau Weiß.” The graveyard mumbled. “Bitte comst aufs Neue?”
“Naturlich! Herr Seymour, Ich wurde nicht verlasse du.” They replied in a breath of cold air and dead leaves. And upon their retreat, the graveyard sighed once again.
The graveyard was always silent.