Cemetery and Familiar Mud Track
The wind howled around me like a pack of starving wolves as I entered the cemeteries rusty iron gates. Yet it seemed so wild and chaotic that it reminded me of home, so it didn’t bother me at all, I was used to it. My brother’s headstone was only a ten minute walk away so I let myself drink in the moonlight and the memories the cemetery held. I remembered the first time I went there with my mother, just after Jason died... She led me down the now familiar mud track past the eerie, dancing trees, to the spot she planned on burying him. And it wasn’t until I was standing in front of the headstone that I realized he was gone ; that was the first time I truly cried. I slowly walked down the pebbly path and admired the cherry blossoms that were flourishing around the graveyard. It was a cold Aprils night and it was going to be dark soon.
I could hear the river roaring in all its glory as I approached Jason’s lying place, but apart from that there was complete silence. Not even a bird chirping in the background could be heard, which was why I liked it there, it was as if I was alone with my brother again. I stopped, searching all around me to check if I was alone. However the dark of the night wrapped around the trees and the surrounding area making it almost impossible to see anything. I crept up to the headstone watching my footing for twisted tree roots holding his flowers out in front of me. I laid them down on the ground and made a mental note to bring a torch next time I visited. The darkness had fallen and I embraced it with open arms. Suddenly I heard several twigs snap behind me. I clumsily spun round to catch a glimpse of what it could have been, trying not to fall, and that was the moment I first laid eyes on him. The figure was standing no more than fifteen feet away from me. Too close. He was about six feet tall and wearing all black, except from his white hat. He looked about forty but it was