H. Copella
�Why do people insist they see things in cemeteries at night?� Ryan, the police officer in the passenger side, said firmly. �These places give me the creeps.�
�Sometimes kids play in there�practical jokes,� Dan, the driver, replied.
A shadow moved within the cemetery. Both officers strained to have a better look.
Dan sighs and opens his car door. �Guess we�d better check it out.�
�Give those kids a little scare of my own,� Ryan muttered and got out of the car. �Dragging me out in a cemetery after dark.�
Both officers approached the open gate and entered the cemetery with their nightstick flashlights. They shined the lights around the headstones as they walked along the main path through the cemetery.
�Beloved wife,� Ryan read from the headstone he passed. He looked at Dan. �Amazing how everyone was so beloved after they died. I�d like to see money hungry bitch on my ex-wife�s headstone.�
�Just let it go, Ryan,� Dan said with a bored sigh. �You�re like a broken record.�
They approached an open grave. Both men stopped and shined their lights around the area. The ground lay along side the grave in a large pile. Dan stepped a little closer and shined his light into the grave. The vault could be seen deep within the pit.
�That�s unusual,� Ryan announced while keeping his distance. �I thought they usually filled them in right away.�
Dan shined his light to a discarded shovel. �They do,� Dan replied more softly. �We�d better call for some back up. Looks like we have ourselves a grave digger.�
�A grave digger?� Ryan asked curiously. �You think someone�s digging up the bodies?�
A sound was heard from the crypt. Dan shined his light toward the nearby crypt. Ryan followed the light to the creepy, marble building.
�Oh, no,� Ryan announced firmly. �You�re not getting me to go in there.�
�Stop being such a wuss,� Dan remarked and removed his gun. �Cover me.�
Ryan removed his gun as well and followed Dan toward the crypt. Dan approached the partially opened crypt door. He pushed the door open the rest of the way. Dan shined the light inside the dark crypt.
"Oh, Jesus," Dan scoffed and straightened with a look of annoyance.
Ryan looked into the crypt as Dan stepped away and removed his radio. The solid stone encasements were torn away and several caskets lie on the crypt floor. Dan talked into his hand held radio.
"This is Officer Millner, we need assistance at�" Dan began while looking around the cemetery. His eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, Jesus!"
Ryan spun around with his flashlight. A cloaked figure stood before Dan, like some mystic arc angel. Ryan's mouth fell open with surprise and horror. The point of a dagger appeared through Dan's back as Dan cried out. Ryan stumbled backwards and raised his gun. His expression conveyed his shock and fear. Ryan pulled the trigger. The cloaked figure whirled Dan over far enough, allowing Ryan to shoot Dan in the back. Ryan panicked and aimed again. A soft moan was heard just behind Ryan. He spun around with his gun aimed. Another cloaked arc angel stood directly behind him in the crypt doorway and plunged a fifteen-inch dagger through Ryan's throat.
The following morning, a police line surrounded the cemetery and the distant crypt. A chain locked the cemetery gate along with a keep out sign. All signs of police vehicles had diminished with the night, but it was apparent that there had been quite a disturbance sometime during the night.
Connecting to the cemetery property was an old, renovated farmhouse. It's detailed exterior had been restored to a nearly mint condition. A young woman, Amber Willow, sits on the porch railing and stares across the yard to the cemetery. A jeep pulls into the driveway. Amber springs from the porch and hurries to the jeep. Another young woman in her early twenties, Sam Krosby, gets out of the jeep and looks toward the cemetery as well. Amber approaches with a look of exhaustion on her youthful face.
"You are not going to believe the night I had," Amber told her while hurrying to the passenger side.
"What happened next door?" Sam asked with a look of concern.
Amber shakes her head with a look of disbelief and jumps into the jeep. Sam returns to the driver seat more slowly.
Sam's jeep stops outside of a funeral home in town. Sam turns in the driver's seat and stares at Amber.
"I cannot believe what happened practically in your back yard," Sam said with a firm shake of her head. "It's no wonder you didn't get any sleep."
"The police were absolutely no help either," Amber informed her. "My brother went over to find out what was going on, and they wouldn't say more than two officers were killed. Didn't do much to ease our worries."
"That's just too much," Sam replied. "You live next to a cemetery, and you work in a funeral home. It's a wonder you ever sleep."
"Come on, Sam. There's nothing scary about either," Amber said simply. "I help my uncle with the home, because someone has to take care of departed loved ones. And a cemetery is just a resting ground, not some cursed place. You can't allow things like that to bother you."
"I know," Sam said with a soft sigh. "But after hearing two cops were killed in a cemetery, it can give you the creeps."
Amber laughed softly. "I'll agree with you there." She opens her passenger side door and looks back at Sam. "Wanna meet for lunch today?"
"Sure," Sam replied. "What time?"
"It's going to be a busy day. Why don't you just walk over when you're ready," Amber informed her simply.
Sam shifts uncomfortably then forces a tiny smile. "Why don't I give you a call instead?"
Amber smiles gently and groans. "You are funeral home phobic."
"Is no such thing," Sam said with a tiny smile. "See you later."
A two-year-old boy in a sailor outfit sits on a rocking horse and cries. The mother shakes a stuffed animal and makes kissing noises to catch the child's attention. Sam stands behind the camera in the portrait studio and squeezes a squeaking stuffed animal. A man in his late twenties enters the studio with a clown nose and wig on. The little boy stops crying and watches the man skip around the room. The little boy begins to giggle. Sam snaps several photos and sighs with relief.
Outside in the lobby, the mother carries her little boy from the studio. Sam turns to Dawson and smiles.
"You certainly have a way with kids," Sam announced.
"Yeah, too bad I don't have the same luck with women," Dawson said while smiling cheaply.
Sam shifted with discomfort.
"How about lunch today?" Dawson asked more cheerfully.
"I'm meeting Amber for lunch," Sam replied.
Dawson frowned. "I'd invite myself along, but I don't particularly care for Amber."
