Cheese and crackers, Mom, your headstone looks good. Thought we overspent on that one. Shows what I know. I see Uncle Joey got them to add the limerick like you asked. Hi-larious. Even in a cemetery, you’re trying to get people to lighten up.

Hope you don’t mind if I make myself comfortable. Got something weird to tell you. Is it disrespectful to sit on a headstone? Well, I helped pay for the darn thing, so figgy pudding to anyone who tries to stop me.

It’s nice here, Mom. I’m glad you get to keep watching your sunrises.

I’ve been going through the list of who to tell about the weird thing. As always, you’re the one I really wanted to talk to. Maybe it’s a matter for the dead, anyway.

I’ve been seeing something. Hard to explain— that’s half the reason I’m here. Thought I could practice talking about it. Like how you’d always let me run through my school presentations over and over again until I wasn’t nervous anymore. I think it might be some kind of omen, this thing. That’s a tame place to start. A lot of people can get on board with omens.

It was nothing but a speck at first, and I thought my eyes were going. It didn’t move around with my eyes, though. A dark spot on the horizon, always to the east, growing bigger every week. A couple of my third graders pretended to see something when I pointed. Terrible liars, bless ‘em.

As the speck grew, I could make out more of its shape— sort of like a dog— and I could see that it was walking toward me. Named it Rover.

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You know I get that from you. How everything seems funny when I’m scared. Never heard you laugh more in your life than during those last eight months. Uncle Joey was a good sport, putting up with the two of us. You know, I had dinner with him yesterday, and he looked worried for a second there. Bet I was laughing too much.

Rover looks to be about two stories tall now. Still can’t make out some of it, but I can see six legs, three tails, lots of teeth. Eyes always on me. The name gets funnier as it goes.

Say, you think the tails might be tentacles? Just a mess of ‘em writhing right out the thing’s hinder. Now there’s an image.

I’m glad I’m practicing. I’ll leave a lot of details out when I talk to someone for real. You aren’t going to like this, but I made up my mind who it should be. The Lone Star Paranormal Research Society. I know, I know. At least if they think I’m a crackpot, the feeling will be mutual. And I have to tell someone. I get that the likeliest explanation is I’m a sleeve shy of a box of crackers, but the what ifs are killing me. It’s your fault I’m going to do what’s right even if I’ll look like a fool doing it.

Rover looked away from me yesterday. Looked around me. Halfway through recess, its head started moving, following the kids’ hide-and-seek game. No, sir. I’m not having that.

Thanks for listening, Mom. I love you. I’m glad we got to watch the sunrise together one more time. Now that I’m seeing it the way you did, it makes me miss you about a thousand times worse.

And to think, you always said we couldn’t get a dog. Yes, thank you, I do think I’m very funny.

Time I hit the road. I’ll call the kooks on my way back to the car. Got to head east, now. Might be I’ll meet up with you pretty soon. You won’t be too offended if I hope that’s not the case. Have to see if I can do something about our friend Rover. Probably I can’t, but then again, I do deal with eight year olds for a living. Pretty good training for whatever this thing has in store for me.