Roman never worried about the ghosts because they didn’t want to harm him. He liked the silent specters, each one hovering above its gravesite, attached to the body below by invisible string. Roman read each tombstone in turn, nodding respectfully to their translucent counterparts.
Roman took care to arrange the flowers that had been strewn by the wind. He smoothed out clumps of dirt, brushed clean scuffed granite stones. He traced names and dates with his fingertips. Gentle caresses. Careful not to mark.
He knew something was wrong when he found the gravesite empty of its phantom. The site was overgrown by brush, the chipped cement stone barely visible behind moss and leaves. He brushed away the debris drenched stone. Fingernails dug into dirt.
May he care for himself in his next life.
Another spooky one, kids. I’m swept up in it and I’m going to ride the wave. “Drenched” was the prompt today. I was also inspired by this morning’s view from Iconoclast, which is situated across the road from a graveyard. I know my title isn’t very impressive or original; however, Gravewalker is a rune for a weapon in Shadow of Mordor and I’m pretty heavy into that right now, sooooo that’s cool.