Frank stood in the doorway of the mausoleum staring into the outer yard. Heather cowered back, ready to run to the safety of the tunnels if something attacked. He turned around and waved her forward before stepping out himself.

“What if it’s still out there?” she asked hesitantly.

“It isn't,” Frank said as he looked around.

“How do you know?”

“I can sense what's in my graveyard,” he replied. “If it was inside the fence, I would know. Besides, I would have the skeletons drive it off.”

“Skeletons? What skeletons?” she gasped.

“Come out and see,” he sighed, urging her forward.

Carefully she crept to the door and stepped into a dark landscape under a sky filled with stars. It was a dazzling display of lights, many of which seemed too large to be stars. One particularly striking one was bright blue and had a visible halo.

“There are so many stars,” she gasped as her head turned every which way to see more.

“It's a fantasy sky, so it's all bigger and brighter than a real one,” he said. “Sometimes, you can see comets or other planets filling the sky. It's really neat when all three moons are out.”

“Three moons?” she asked as she took a few careful steps away from the safety of the door. She quickly looked around the graveyard and noted that a strange mist crawled over graves and around tombstones. There were eerie green and purple lights in places. Sometimes in the hollows of the tree trunks or the in broken cracks on mausoleum walls.

“Come on, the skeletons won't hurt you so long as I'm nearby,” he said and headed for the gate.

“I don’t see any skeletons,” she replied as she crept after him.

“They hide unless they are about to attack,” he said. “When you level up a graveyard high enough, it starts to spawn skeletons. If you get higher, it will spawn zombies and even other ghouls.”

She glanced around the space, desperate to spot one of the elusive monsters as he led the way. Now that she had a chance to study it, the graveyard wasn't very big. It had a half dozen small mausoleums and maybe fifty gravestones. The whole thing was enclosed by a spiked iron fence that was unnaturally twisted. There were a few dead trees with spindly branches, and the ground was mostly scrubby-looking grass or tangled weeds.

“So you made all this?” she asked while trying to read a faded name on a tombstone.

“Most of it generates on its own. All I did was pick the location and the look. I can expand it by leveling and investing the points I gain. I can also earn points from players who play here or from sacrificing treasure. The larger it gets, the more things it will have. When it's big enough, I can create a special building all my own.”

“A magically growing graveyard? None of this makes any sense,” Heather sighed.

“You get used to it,” Frank said and waved her forward with a spindly arm.

“Wait, you know that monster isn't in your graveyard, but what if it's over the hill?” she asked.

“We avoid it,” he replied.

“Can’t you just kill it?”

He pondered the thought a moment. “I don’t think so. Carrion worms are pretty tough, and I’m not very high level.”

“Why can the monsters attack me when you can’t?”

“It's the way the rules are setup. Players can't attack a zero level because some bad ones would sit in the spawns and kill them repeatedly. Since monsters won't camp a spawn, they are free to attack to encourage players to pick a class and play.

“But none of this is real. I mean, it's all virtual, right?”

He rubbed at his chin with a dark claw as he pondered the thought. “I know that's what the outside world believes, but I don't think it's true.”

“What do you mean you don’t think it is?”

He shrugged. “I have been in here long enough to see things that don't make sense from a game perspective. Things tend to behave with a certain logic in a game, but here they act like you would expect a real animal to act. I sometimes wonder if this world is virtual at all. We might not be digital avatars, maybe were altered clones transported to a real place. It could be another world, dimension. I don't know.”

Heather felt dizzy to hear his explanation. None of what he said made sense other than the idea that this might be more real than she thought. If it was real, then there were a multitude of unanswered questions she wanted to ask.

“If this is real, then what happens when you die?” she dared, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

“In your case, you respawn,” he said. “In mine, I reset.” He noted her blank stare as she failed to comprehend what he just said. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“None; I didn't care about any of this, so I didn’t read the news,” she said. “Besides, I was almost out of school and ready to move on to my career. I was so focused on getting good grades and avoiding the pitfalls of college. I have a job to work, bills to pay, and a report to write for English class.”

“Not anymore,” he said with a smile.

She groaned and stomped her foot in anger. With a flinch, she regretted the outburst remembering how hurt her foot was from kicking the stone. To her surprise, she felt nothing and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let's go and get the panel,” he said, pointing over the hill.

She nodded as they began to walk across the field under the star-filled sky. She felt nervous about being away from the safety of the mausoleum. At least it was a narrow space with stone walls to hide behind. Out here, she was exposed and worried some horrible thing was going to jump out of the shadows. She looked at Frank and wondered what could possibly jump out that was more horrible than him.

As the hours passed, she began to talk silently to herself to try and put her thoughts in order.

“Ok, Heather, you're stuck in New Eden, and you haven't a clue what to do. At least you found a friend, sort of?” she questioned as she glanced to Frank. “I guess he's a friend? I mean, he said he wouldn't kill and eat me because I'm not worth any experience? Saying it in her mind caused a thought to grow, and with it came her anger.

“Wait a minute. If I was worth experience to you, would you have killed me?”

“Yes,” he said without missing a beat, a pleased tone in his voice.

“You would have murdered me in cold blood!”

“Chosen are worth more experience. I would have leveled two or three times,” he said. “My graveyard would be twice the size!”

“But I would be dead!”

“You would respawn,” he pointed out.

“What does that mean?” she growled.

He sighed and shook his head. “Even if I am right and the world is real, the players aren't fully here, at least that's how I think it works. When a player dies, they return to wherever they are bound. In your case, it's to where you translated into the world. For other players, it is usually binding stones in other parts of the world. You can move your binding to a stone or some other locations if you want, but you need your panel for that.”

“What do you mean they return?” she demanded.

“You wake up in a new body at your binding spot. You lose some experience and whatever you were carrying at the time. Then you go on.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I go on?” she asked, unable to believe it.

“It's like a second life. Every time you die, you just come back.”

“What about you?”

“It's different for me. I have to reset,” he said.

“How is that different?”

He sighed. “If I die outside my graveyard, I lose all my progress. I will reset as a level 1 ghoul with no graveyard. I will have to start all over again.”

She took note of the sadness in his voice and the defeated way his shoulders slumped. It was clear he hoped never to reset but knew it would happen someday.”

“You lose everything?” she asked.

“I do,” he replied. “On the plus side, when I reset, I can choose a new race and class if I want.”

“So you don’t have to be this disgusting thing?”

“I’m not disgusting!” he said with a fresh spray of spittle from his fangs.

“You need to look in a mirror,” she said. “Assuming it didn’t shatter when you did.”

“I think this looks cool!” he protested.

“If you say so,” she replied halfheartedly.

“And what do you want to look like?” he asked indignantly.

“What do I want to look like? I already look like me.”

“For now, Yeah, but when you have your panel, you can pick from hundreds of races. You could be almost anything you want to be from nearly every fantasy movie or game.”

“I can?”

“You haven't been listening to anything I said,” he sighed. “You get to pick your class and your race. You could be an elf, a dwarf, a gorra, a kentoku, anything.”

“Can't I just be me?” she asked, looking down at herself.

“I guess if you want to be boring.”

“I’m not boring!” she snapped. “I like who I am!”

“And I like who I am,” he replied.

She glared in frustration, but his point was made. With a huff, she folded her arms as a yawn stretched her face. The sky was dark, and she had spent half the either sulking or running. All that excitement was taking its toll, and she felt it in her body.

“I feel tired.”

“Oh, I forgot you need to sleep,” he said with a scratch at his head.

“What? And you don’t?”

“I’m undead,” he reminded. “Undead don't have to sleep, well, except for vampires. They have a special power pool they need to recharge.”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” she said with another yawn.

Frank squinted in the night and looked across the open grassland. “We’re still a long way from the forest. I doubt we will reach it before morning.”

“Then what do we do?” she asked sleepily.

“I can dig us a couple of shallow graves to sleep in,” he suggested.

“I’m not sleeping in a grave!” she protested with a mocking tone. “And why are would you dig two if you don't need to sleep?”

“I don’t need to sleep, but sometimes I do. I also sleep when I'm injured and want to heal faster or if I'm trying to recover special powers. I can sleep anywhere I can dig a grave, but undead heal much faster in a graveyard.”

“None of this makes any sense,” she groaned with a shake of her head. She looked up to the sky as her eyes became wet. “I didn't want to be here, and now I can't get out. I am so tired, and I don't have anywhere to go. I'm afraid if I close my eyes, something will devour me in my sleep.”

Frank turned and stood in her path, bringing the march to a halt. “Look, I get that this is all a shock, and you're having trouble adjusting. Why don't you sleep on the grass, and I will stay up to watch and make sure nothing eats you.”

“I want a bed to sleep in,” she protested.

“I am sure you do, but there is no bed unless an Inn wanders by,” he pointed out.

“An inn wanders by?” she asked, confused.

“You honestly know nothing about this world?”

She could only shrug sheepishly.

“Well, we can keep walking, or you can sleep here,” he suggested. “I promise I won’t let anything harm you.”

Heather relented with another yawn and sat down. “Maybe for just a few minutes.” She tried to remain sitting as her eyes got heavy, but eventually, the stress of the day took its toll, and sleep came.

Her dreams were full of trauma and turmoil. Her cell phone hadn't charged and was about to die. Her report was on the phone and needed to be turned in. She tried desperately to find her charging cable only to discover she left it at home. Just as her battery blinked away, she woke up.

She lifted a heavy arm to shield her eyes from the blinding sun. “Oh, why couldn’t this have been the dream?” she groaned and sat up, feeling stiff and sore. Carefully she lowered her arm to squint into the bright light and look around. It was a sunny day with another sky that was richly blue. There were sun rays visible to the naked eye, shining down all around on a sea of grass rolling like waves in the wind. The sweet melody of a bird sang someplace in the distance as she turned to the right choked.

There she saw a grotesque hunching creature with gray skin. It had its back to her as it shuddered, making strange tearing sounds as it fumbled with something. Her eyes went wide with fear before her memory caught up, and she remembered who that was.

“Frank?” she asked.

The grotesque form suddenly lurched around, turning to face her as she rolled over to vomit.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked as he discarded the rabbit he was eating.

“Why is your face covered in blood?” she choked, refusing to look at him.

“I was eating,” he said innocently.

“A bunny rabbit! Raw?” she cried.

“How else am I supposed to eat a rabbit?”

“You don’t eat them!” she insisted. “You pet them and feed them carrots!”

“This isn’t a petting zoo,” he pointed out.

“It should be!” she gripped and tried to look at him with one eye. She caught sight of his face and looked away again, spitting the foul taste from her mouth.

“You're not very good at this,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe you should leave.”

“I told you that,” she groaned and began to move. “All I want is to go home, take a bath, and change my clothes.”

“I hope it's that simple,” he said as she stood up and squinted into the morning light.

Heather looked at the sky to see the sun sitting low in a dawn state. She watched for just a moment to realize that once again, it wasn't moving.

“Why does the sun move like that?”

Frank looked up at the light above and shrugged. “It moves every few hours.”

“It moves every few hours?” she muttered. “What kind of sun only moves every few hours?”

He sighed. “I don't know how it works. I spoke to a thief player once, and he said something about the sun being bugged.”

“The sun is bugged, and you think this isn’t a virtual world?” she pressed.

He shrugged and wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing some of the gore off.

“It used to work, but that was a long time ago before I was on. All I know is the visitors haven't been able to fix it yet.”

She struggled to walk the stiffness out of her muscles as he went on with the nonsensical explanation.

“So, how long have you been here?” she asked.

“Ummm, a year?” he replied as if he wasn’t sure.

“You don’t know?”

“It’s not like seasons pass here the same way they do on earth. This place is different. I haven’t seen a winter yet.”

“So you can’t tell time?”

“I can't measure the passage of time like we do on earth. Days are slightly longer, and seasons don't seem to exist. I think it's modeled after our games. If you go north, you find snowy areas.”

“And I suppose if I go south, I will find deserts,” she guessed.

“I think so, but there can be deserts or snow in places for magical reasons,” he replied. “To be honest, I spawned in the forest near where you did. I only traveled briefly and tried playing near a town for a little bit before coming back here to start my graveyard. I haven't seen much of the world.”

“Do you know how big this world is?”

He shrugged again. “I think I read it was twice the size of the earth.”

“Twice the size?” she gasped.

“All I know is it’s pretty large and full of magic and dangers,” he replied as he dared to look at her.

She recoiled with a squint to see his face. He noticed the reaction and turned away with a quiet groan.

“Let's go find your panel before we're both eaten by goblins,” he said and walked ahead. She saw his shoulders slump as he led the way across the sea of green and realized she felt terrible. She didn't want to be here, but he did. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't been very nice to him, and here he was helping her. True he was doing it for the reward, but he was going out of his way to be helpful. She looked at his back as they walked and chewed on her lip a moment.

“Umm, Frank?” she started. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?” he replied without turning around.

“For being so helpful and explaining things to me.”

He was silent a moment before he glanced back and replied.

“You looked like you needed some help. I know I said I would have killed you, but only if you were adventuring in my crypt. The truth is, I'm starting to get lonely.”

“You're lonely?”

She saw his scraggy head bob up and down.

“Nobody comes to visit my graveyard. I made it far away from any of the towns, and I hardly meet anybody else. I thought maybe other undead players might join me, and we could form a big complex of crypts and tunnels, but nobody wants to play undead anymore.”

Looking at him, she understood why. In a world where they could choose to be almost anything, who would want to look like a corpse? Frank had a dream that involved other people building and sharing in his vision, but sadly they hadn't come.

“There must be other people who like graveyards?”

“Some witches do, and so do some warlocks. But most of them want to play near the big cities.”

“Why don’t you play near the big city?” she pried.

He looked off into the distance and sighed. “The same reason you don’t like to look at me. Most people want to play beautiful characters. They don’t want the ugly players in the city.”

She realized just how badly her words and her body language must be hurting him. She decided to try and be nicer, at least until she was out of this world. Who knows, maybe he could use the panel to make himself prettier.

“Well, I was shocked to look at you, but you are a nice guy. If I was going to stay in this world, I would play with you,” she said.

He laughed. “And what class would you play?”

She shrugged and repeated the only one she remembered. “Paladin, maybe?”

He started to laugh a deep throaty cackle that made her shiver.

“Why is that so funny?” she asked.

“You want to play with me as a paladin?”

“Yeah?” she said, not sure what the problem was.

“You do realize paladins hunt and kill the undead, right?”

She slapped her hand to her face as she realized her mistake.

“Look, I didn’t know what a paladin was. I was just trying to make conversation. I don’t know what I would play. I have no idea what the choices are. I am sure I could pick something that would work well with you.”

“As a chosen, the game will make recommendations,” he said. “In fact, you're kind of doing yourself a favor.”

“I am?”

He nodded his head again. “The longer you explore the world without choosing, the more data the game has to make suggestions. When you find your panel, it will recommend characters based on what you have already done.”

“So it will guide me?”

“In a manner of speaking. It will offer suggestions. You don’t have to pick any of them.”

“Well then, let's see what it thinks I am good at,” she suggested. “Then I will pick something.”

“So you want to stay?”

“Heck, no!” she groaned. “But I don't want to be killed and eaten by dung beetles. I will pick something tough and hard to kill while you help me find a way out.”

“Actually, paladins are hard to kill,” he laughed. “But you and I couldn't work together then.”

“Then you tell me what would be good to play,” she groaned in frustration as they crested a hill and stopped dead in their tracks.

“You there, necromancer!” a man on a horse shouted.

“Oh, no!” Frank groaned.