Without knowing how I'd gotten there, I found myself walking under a half moon towards my parents' gravesite. During the day, its grounds were brightened by the sun, but nighttime ... things remained hidden among the shadows and I was battling against my fear taking over. Finally, I reached my parents' oversized shared headstone and started to place the flowers I'd brought for them on top ...

A hurried whispering of my name stopped me. With my hand still suspended above the smooth marble, I looked around. No one stepped forward from the shadows, but I could feel that I wasn't alone. Quickly, I placed the flowers and turned to leave ...

Suddenly, the scenery changed. I was inside of Cemetery Raven, running away from someone I couldn't see as he chased me within a dense fog. Though I didn't know who he was, and hadn't even seen his face, I could sense danger. Desperate to get away, I tried to outrun him, but my legs hardly seemed to move, and no matter how hard I tried to make them, they wouldn't cooperate. I could hear the footfall of my pursuer getting closer ...

Frantically searching for a place to hide, I spotted an area where the cloud was thinned, and ran to it. I reached it and turned. Just beyond the screen of mist, I could see him. No longer running, he was about to emerge and put a face to the horror ...!

Something startled me awake. Still caught up within my burgeoning nightmare, I gradually began to recognize where I was – my bedroom.

Thinking it had been my fear that had awakened me, and grateful not to have to face my tormentor, I got up and went to the window that faced down the street, parted the lacy curtains, and gazed out. The sky was cloudless. The moon was sharp and beautiful ... and under it, in varying shades of gray, Cemetery Raven was a portrait of stilled perfection.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Irritated by the interruption, but curious to know if Rhys had come by even though I'd said I wanted to be alone, I went to my bedroom door and opened it.

It was Mrs. Fimmel, Rhys' mother. "Frank and Catherine were such great friends, but I just could not bring myself to go to their funeral."

"I'm sure Ashe understands – it was hard on everyone," I heard my aunt reply. She paused before continuing, "I'm worried about her. She's been quieter than usual."

"She's strong. I know she'll pull through this," Mr. Fimmel said.

"Well, Rhys had her smiling earlier. Maybe he can help bring her out of her shell."

I closed the door. I'd heard enough.

I wanted to get out of the house, but I knew if I went downstairs, I'd be bombarded with an avalanche of unwanted adult concern. Feeling trapped, I went to stand at the window facing the street and gazed out at my aunt's front yard. "Why couldn't the tree be closer?" I bemoaned quietly.

The phone on my nightstand rang, but I ignored it as I continued to stare out of the window and watch Rhys' parents walk back across the lawn to their house and go inside. They'd been close friends with my mom and dad, and I knew they were hurting, but I couldn't help them. I couldn't even make my own pain go away.

There was a light rap on my bedroom door. My aunt opened it and peeked around the corner. "You're up." She entered, leaving it open. "Honey, I have two things to tell you. The first is unpleasant. There's somewhere I have to go tonight." There was a lengthy pause and I braced myself against what she would say next. "Rhys' parents came by to check on you, but to also let me know that Mr. Kennerly, a friend of mine, has died. The viewing is tonight. I know you probably won't want to, especially with the recent ..." Looking at a loss for words, she stopped.

"I'll go."

She looked surprised. "Are you sure?"

I didn't want to, but death was real, something I couldn't escape, be it mine or someone else's. I nodded. "Yeah."

Too easily, she accepted my answer without further debate. "Now, the next unpleasant thing, my trip's been moved up and I have to leave tonight. I'm sorry to do this, especially when you need me the most, but there's no one else." Apologetically, she added, "Do you want me to call someone to stay with you?"

Simmering, I did my best not to rage at her. "Aunt Karen, what I need is time alone, not a babysitter."

"But ..."

"No – stop. This is Mannix! Nothing ever happens here. But, if something does, Rhys and his parents are next door."

A long, insufferable moment passed between us. Finally, she said, "You're right. You're not a little girl anymore. At least Rhys will be there for you."

"Aunt Karen –! Stop trying to set me up with him!"

"All I meant was that he's a good friend to you."

"No, that's not all you meant – but he is, and only a friend. That's never going to change – our choice!"

Looking like she was trying to collect her nearly lost dignity, she turned and walked out.

I felt only a little sorry for saying to her what I did. From experience, I knew she'd never really ever stop trying to pair me up with Rhys, and I didn't want her to stay if all she was going to do was to try to pry into my deepest, darkest feelings. But, she'd be gone and I'd have the house to myself. The first thing I'd do ... I didn't have a clue, but at least I'd have the freedom to either do it, or not – by myself.

Regretting saying that I'd go with her, I looked to where the black mourning dress still lay crumpled on the floor. I didn't want to put it back on, but it wasn't about how I felt – it was about what was required. I just hoped that once I took it off again, I wouldn't have another reason to wear it for a very long time, if ever.

I went and picked the dress up and gave it a good shake to help get out the wrinkles. It didn't work, but without anything else suitable to wear, I changed into it. After I put it on, I went to my bedroom door and closed it halfway to look at my refection in the full-length mirror mounted on the back of it. The dirt smudge, from when I'd wiped my hand off onto my dress at my parents' funeral, was still there. I ran my hand over it a couple of times, but it wouldn't come off. Forced to accept that the brown stain would remain on my black dress until the next washing, I exited my bedroom and went downstairs to wait for my aunt.

Moments later, wearing the same black dress she'd worn to my parents' funeral, she came down and we left the house, headed for another dead person's final farewell.

Even though we could've walked to the funeral home, my aunt decided to drive us there instead. She parked at the edge of Cemetery Raven, where the dirt path along its front met with the start of the paved sidewalk at the funeral home, and as we got out and walked to the white building with its red double doors, I gazed at the newer section of the cemetery behind it. It was small and well-cared for. Nearly all of the headstones had fresh flowers placed in front of them, left there by those who'd visited; a timeless tradition that continued until the last remaining person died, too. And then, just like its predecessor, the original Cemetery Raven, it too would be left to the ravages of time. But as nice as it was, I preferred the older graveyard. What others might see as ugly – brown, dried weeds, and ancient, historical, but damaged tombstones, many severely – was beginning to intrigue me.

We walked up the concrete steps of the funeral home and went inside. Not surprisingly, Rhys and his parents weren't there, but given how large the room was, I was surprised to see it filled almost to capacity with people; some crying and others looking disbelieving.

A woman walked over to us. She and my aunt hugged and began to discuss Mr. Kennerly. Seizing the opportunity to escape the active mourning, I quietly slipped away to a back corner to wait while my aunt mingled with the others. As I looked around, I caught sight of a lone white casket against the far right wall. I didn't go to look. I knew what was inside of it.

"Ashe!"

Caught off-guard by my name being called in a loud whisper, I looked to my aunt. She was still talking to the same woman. And, while no one seemed interested that I was there, I knew someone had called out to me.

As I searched the crowd for a familiar face, a man stepped forward. He came over and stood next to me. "Good turn-out, isn't it?"

Wondering if I should know him, I said, "Yeah, I guess."

Neither of us spoke to the other as he gazed about the room. Feeling awkward, I started to excuse myself and leave, but stopped when he said, "You can see me like I can see you."

I instantly regretted my decision to stand alone in a room full of strangers. Looking for my aunt, I started to edge away from him.

"Ashe, this will sound strange, but you and I will see each other again, although I don't know when. And, tell Karen I'm fine."

Rattled by his odd conversation, I watched him walk over to the casket and peer inside of it. He turned and smiled at me before he started to ... climb inside!

A quick glance told me no one had seemed to notice. But afraid someone would, and then drag him out like a misbehaved child, I started over, but halted when he ... laid down!

Unsure what to do without causing a scene, I tried to appear casual as I hastily walked over to the casket. Prepared to tell him to get out, I glanced in ...

Aghast, I whispered, "Mr. Kennerly?"

"Ashe?"

I wheeled around.

My aunt, clearly startled by my reaction, asked, "Are you okay?"

"I ... oh, wow. I just talked to Mr. Kennerly." I looked over my shoulder at him again.

"Of course you did. No one would think that was strange."

I shook my head. "No." I turned and looked back at her. "Not him. His ... ghost." Aware how absurd that sounded, I stammered, "He wants you to know ... he's fine."

Her expression went from concern to bleak, and I could see judgment in her eyes. "Ashe, I know you just suffered a loss, but to say something like that ..."

Straining to keep my voice level, I said, "Aunt Karen, I'm telling you ... he spoke to me!"

She walked away, leaving me alone with his corpse. Bothered by her disapproval of what I'd said, I went to stand at the opposite side of the room where I could watch the casket from a safe distance hoping, that for my sanity, what I'd seen hadn't been my imagination, brought on by the recent events in my own life. Because if it wasn't ... I wanted a sign ... I needed a sign ... a hope that I'd one day see my parents and speak with them like I just had with Mr. Kennerly.

Finally, my aunt was ready to go. We drove back to the house in silence. Anxious to separate myself from her, I headed up to my room the instant I entered the house and closed the door. Shedding the despised dress as fast as I could, I threw it into the closet, not caring that it landed onto the floor, and changed back into my regular clothes.

There was a soft knock on my bedroom door.

I went to open it. Aunt Karen was there, suitcases in hand. She hadn't changed her clothes. "The taxi's here. I left a house key for you on the kitchen table. Rhys' parents have a spare if you lose yours. Make sure you keep the doors locked. All of the emergency phone numbers are next to the phone, and if anyone knocks on the door ..."

I was relieved. She wasn't going to harp on what I'd said. "Okay ... and Aunt Karen?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you – for everything."

Her soft wrinkles deepened as she smiled warmly at me. "Oh, honey." She set her baggage down and wrapped me in a big hug. "You're welcome." Finally, she released me. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"I am." A minor lie, but after she left, I'd have the rest of the night to think about what happened, to question it, and then do my damnedest to try and rationalize it all.

"I'll call you as soon as I can," she said as she picked up her luggage again. I followed her downstairs, but at the doorway she paused. "I put something in your dresser, top right drawer." She continued down the porch steps to the taxi. The driver took her luggage and put it into the trunk as she got into the backseat and closed the door. He slammed the trunk down, got in behind the wheel, and closed his door. He backed out and they drove off.

At last, I was alone.

I closed the door and went back upstairs to my bedroom. I pulled open the nearly empty dresser drawer and saw a large, stuffed, white envelope in the right corner. I took it out and looked inside. It was money – lots of it. Wondering why she'd given it to me, knowing I didn't like to shop, I put it back, closed the drawer, and went downstairs again. At the foot of the stairwell, I paused, looking around the living room for an idea of what to do. Spying the stereo, I went to it and turned it on. After skimming through the channels, and not finding anything worth listening to, I shut it off and went over to plunk down onto the sofa. Hoping I'd have better luck finding something interesting to watch on TV, I picked up the remote – but again, found nothing worthwhile. I shut it off.

Bored, and completely tapped out of ideas for something to do, I leaned my head back against the sofa cushions. I thought about Mr. Kennerly ... and then told myself how stupid it had been for me to think, even for a minute, that he'd actually been there, at his own wake!

Itching to get out of the house, I got up from the sofa and went outside. I looked over at Cemetery Raven ... and I suddenly knew how I'd try to ease my restlessness. Not stopping to question if what I was about to do would be reckless, or bothering with the chore of considering what I might find, or what might find me, all alone, so late at night, inside of a cemetery that was supposed to be occupied only by dead people, I immediately went back for the house key, locked the door, and started down the sidewalk.

Although I'd never been keen on graveyards, and didn't particularly find them interesting, my anger over my parents being unfairly taken from me had numbed the part of my brain that that would have warned against taking such a risk. But by going there, if nothing else, it'd make me face what I feared the most at the moment – nothing, yet everything ... the uncertainty of life.

I crossed the street to the dirt walkway in front of Cemetery Raven and as I slowly made my way to its entrance, I gazed in at the huge, ancient graveyard. Rationalizing it, I told myself that it wasn't just where decayed bodies lay; it was the last place someone had whispered the name of a loved one who had once lived – like I had. Halfway to the entrance, I stopped to look back at Rhys' house. If he knew what I was doing, he'd say I was crazy. Cemeteries and Rhys didn't mix, especially at night. Years before, while playing 'Truth or Dare', he'd admitted that the woods and anything related to cemeteries, including anything otherworldly, scared him. He even hated Halloween.

When I reached the closed gate, I wrapped my fingers around the bars of the rusted wrought-iron and pushed. It didn't budge. Set in my decision not to allow it to refuse my entry, I pushed again, harder.

Creaking loudly, it opened.

I hesitated.

Telling myself to only think about Cemetery Raven's fragile beauty and to relish the solitude, and using the light from the full moon to guide me, I stepped inside – but then paused.

Lying to myself that I wasn't afraid, I forced myself to keep going and began to look at the old headstones; some of which were hidden within the tall, dried weeds. As I went along, I did my best to read each individual name of those long deceased, as well as the dates of birth and death. But while some had been erased with time, others seemed to have been virtually untouched by it. Soon, I began to relax, and to my surprise, I found being inside the grounds of the very first established cemetery in Mannix wasn't eerie at all. It was peaceful, the perfect place to be alone – and it had brought an unexpected comfort to my troubled soul.

Eventually, I glanced at my watch. An hour had passed. I decided to leave, but as I did, I intentionally left the gate open so that if I decided to return, I could walk right in.

Not ready to go home, I looked toward downtown. Though I doubted anything interesting was happening, I was curious to know what it'd be like at night. I walked the remainder of the dirt path to the start of the sidewalk, but as I started past the funeral home, I glanced at it warily.

No one was outside; human or ghost.

Doing my best to convince myself that, out of my own grief, I'd only imagined Mr. Kennerly had spoken to me, I hurried along, slowing only when I was well past the funeral home.

I walked almost the entire length of Main Street looking for something that would interest me, but every shop was the same – boring. Thinking I'd wasted my time, I started to leave ... but then caught sight of a store that wasn't like the rest – Ghostley Electronics. My mind reeled. Dumb name, or ... had I actually spoken to Mr. Kennerly's ghost, and not imagined it, like I thought I had? Was Mannix haunted and that was why the store was there? It was almost impossible to make sense of ... but if he had been there, and I hadn't hallucinated ... how many others knew about it? Excited I might somehow have a way of contacting my parents after all, I walked to it.

The store was closed. I looked at the business hours posted on the door – open every morning at eight-thirty, closed at every night at nine o'clock. Sundays were the only exception – open at the same time, but closed at noon. Determined to return as soon as I could, I turned to go ... and bumped into someone.

Two girls were there. One looked confused, but the other girl looked angry. "Sorry. I didn't see you."

Eyes narrowed, the angry one snarled, "You didn't see me because you weren't looking! Next time, look first, step second." She glanced down at her sandaled foot and groaned. "Great. You've ruined my new shoes." Then she looked at my sneakers and snipped, "No wonder. With those old, ugly things, it's no surprise. Why don't you either get new ones, or wipe the dirt off of the bottom of those?"

Unsure which I liked least ... her rudeness or her false sense of superiority she was trying to force on me, I replied, "I thought I just did. When I need to wipe off the other shoe, I'll come looking for you."

Her look of angry shock was priceless! I waited, wondering if the snotty bitch would try to rail on me again for unintentionally bumping into her, ready to unload an avalanche of insults if she did.

She recovered quickly. "You need to learn some manners!"

"I have manners – I apologized. You ignored it," I said evenly.

With a dirty look at me, she flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, and said, "Come on, Avery. No need to slum it with whoever she is. Let's go."

I watched as the mean girl and her mute friend turned and walked away. Decided that I'd seen enough for the night, I crossed the street, headed in the direction of my aunt's house, and found myself walking alongside a club, Under Twenty and One. At the moment, it was quiet. But I was sure that once the weekend came, it would be colorful with neon lights and booming with loud music.

As I neared my street, I passed an antique store, the last of the Main Street shops, and turned the corner quickly ... and bumped into someone else.

I took a step back, but instead of apologizing, I glared at the guy standing there.

He said nothing – no offering of apology, no accusation. He only stared, as if surprised to see me.

Not caring if it was rude, and unwilling to engage in another heated argument, I moved around him and continued down my street. But halfway to my aunt's house, I could still feel his eyes on me.

I slowed and turned.

The stranger was watching me. We remained steadily looking at each other until he slowly broke eye contact, turned the corner, and was gone from sight.

To avoid any more accidental collisions, I walked the rest of the way home down the center of the road, but moved to the sidewalk when I reached Rhys' house. Gazing up at his window, I murmured, "Don't suddenly come down with a fever before morning. Wait until you show me around the school first – and then we can both be sick."