Do you know how everybody says that the smallest coffins are the heaviest? They are not. Well, yes, they are. Psychically. But did you try to lift the coffin with an adult and not a very slim man? It's heavy as hell. 

How do I know? I run a cemetery. Alone. I inherited it from my father when I was 16. He and mum died in a car accident. I decided I want to take care of myself, partially maybe because I can't stand other people. Well, most of them. I don't know when it started, but I just acquiesced with it. Running a cemetery was the kind of job I needed with my personality. I used to run around my dad when he was working. I learned many things from him.

But I must admit, I'm not sure anymore if those things that happened to me recently were real. Sometimes I just think if I shouldn't have stayed in my sweet shell of ignoring others, maybe it would be better. But then I always realize that I'm happy I didn't. How much would I miss? You know, the best things happen, when you expect them least. And I haven't expected any of them. I was just completely unprepared. And maybe a little thickheaded. 

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That November was terrible weather. Fast changes of rain, mist and snow caused me even worse mood than I usually had. And that is something. I knew that I didn't appeal to others in the best way and that they were whispering about that weird guy from a graveyard looking like an angry zombie, but I didn't care. What did they know? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So I always passed around them and ignored them.

I don't properly remember if they stopped talking to me and so I adopted my behaviour or that I began to act like that and so they stopped talking to me. That doesn't matter. More importantly, I didn't protest. It suited me.

Maybe it was because I didn't want to be disappointed again. I used to trust people. But I burned myself. Many times. So I backed up.

I know what you are probably thinking. It's weird. But running cemetery helped me to stay away from people and out of sight. Maybe they even told stories about me to their kids. That would be cool.

The only people I let into my proximity was my father's friend Eliot, who dropped here every two days to check our small chapel and to bring me some supplies, and Carol, my school friend who sometimes stopped here for a talk. She was nice, but a little bit too loud for my taste. On the other hand, I don't recall Eliot laughing out loud. He was interesting though and I often wondered how he became friends with my dad. Some things just don't have an explanation.

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„Hey Grumpy, another great day, isn't it?"

I frowned a bit. I didn't like him calling me grumpy.

„I already took your measurements. If you will carry on that way, I'm sure I can find some nice fresh grave to put you in," I said rattily.

Eliot just smiled.

„Ok, fine, I'm sorry. I just wanted to ask you, if you need anything?"

„No, I have everything I need. I'm just tired. I have so many new contracts. It's like everybody around just decided they wanted to die all at once."

He patted me on the shoulder.

„Head up, my boy. Think positively."

What is positive about dead people?

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I made up my best positive face I could, but from Eliot's look, it didn't come well.

„Have you heard about the disappearances?" he asked suddenly.

I frowned.

„No. No, I haven't. What happened?"

He handed me our local newspapers. The big headline said: „The fourth missing boy. Is it just a coincidence?"

„Is it real?" I pointed at the article, „Or they are just making it big?"

Eliot shook his head.

„It's super real. All pretty, young guys around 20, disappearing on their way home and no one heard about them since. You can imagine it caused some panic."

That wasn't surprising. In such a small town people thought that they know everybody. And now they were ripped out from their certainty.

I read the article carefully. Four missing in just a few weeks. Whoever did kidnap them, was very busy. I looked at the picture of the last missing boy. Eliot was right about their look. He was pretty. With beautiful green eyes and a light smile.

I shook my head. These were not thoughts I wanted to think right now. Not when someone else was there.

I returned papers to Eliot.

„Keep me updated, will you?" I asked.

He nodded.

„Of course. Be careful out here." And with those words, he disappeared in the mist.

I'm not going to lie, it shook with me a bit. No matter how I seemed to others, I wasn't much of a hero. And knowing there is kidnapper somewhere out there … And from this far no one would hear me. Not very pleasant aspects.

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My thoughts were haunting me and prevented me from sleeping. I couldn't stop thinking about that boy in newspapers. Poor soul. Whatever happened to him, couldn't be good.

Maybe they are still alive and all right. There is no clue they are dead, I thought though I doubted that.

I gave up after three hours and went for something to drink. 

The mist finally rose, so I had a clear view of the whole cemetery. Graves were still and quiet, like tens of grey stone guardians of the night. It was always somehow calming to see them, but tonight it just made me more nervous. 

And then I saw a movement behind one of the stones. It was too far for me to say, what it was, but my guts tightened.

It was a bird. Or a cat. Definitely not a person, I tried to convince myself.

But then it was there again, just a little bit more on left.

I hesitated. But after a while, I took all of my courage, and with a flashlight, I stepped into the dark.

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I slowly made my way to the place I saw that something. If it was an animal, I could be calm. If it was a person, I needed to know, why they were here at midnight. But I didn't find anything. Neither cat nor kidnapper. I searched every corner, but there was nothing. I calmed down. But not for too long.

I turned back to head back into bed when I screamed over the whole graveyard. Just a meter or two in front of me stood boy, not much older than me, and looking equally shocked as me.

„Jesus Christ. What in the fucking hell are you doing here?" I hissed at him, embarrassed by my first reaction.

„I … I don't know," he stuttered quietly.

„How can you not know?" I asked in disbelieve. „Did you fell here from the sky or what?"

„Where am I?"

I pointed my flashlight on him. He flinched and I noticed that the light was somehow going more  … through him than reflecting. Weird. I'd swear I saw him somewhere.

„You are on Jinvalley's graveyard and it's well past midnight. Now, can you please finally tell me what are you doing here?" I started losing my patience.

„I don't remember," he said and seemed to be more and more confused. 

„Well, that had to be a hell of a party, if you don't remember ending up on graveyard," I smirked.

He began to look around in every direction, on me, on his hands. He was quiet but I could sense he was starting to freak out.

„Graveyard? Why am I on a graveyard? Why can't I remember anything? What happened to me? Why am I so cold?" 

He suddenly stopped spinning and looked at me with horror in his eyes.

„I … I'm dead, right?"

I froze.

„What? What are you babbling about?"

„I'm dead," he whispered.

„Yeah, and I'm a pope. You are standing right here, how can you …"

I tried to grab his shoulder but my hand just simply went through his body, like there was nothing in the way. A shiver went down my spine. And then I realized why he was so familiar to me. I didn't see it at first, but it was him – that boy from newspapers. That boy who went missing two days back.

„Oh God," I breathed. That was all I managed to say.