William walked through the wrought iron gates of the cemetery, the wind blowing just hard enough to make the gates move slightly and creak with the breeze. It was that time of year where the weather had already been chilly for a while, but now it was truly starting to get cold, the wind only exacerbating it. He shifted his backpack and pulled his coat tighter.
William wandered among the headstones, waiting for one to catch his eye. He was here to get a picture of a couple of gravestones for a research project, and this final resting place for many was the closest he could find in the area.
He kept walking down the slightly uneven cobblestone path, quickly glancing to either side to spot a good headstone. One off to the right stood out: a simple stone, worn and covered in moss with an intricate script slightly faded.
‘I can’t quite read it, how can I…’ William thought, walking up to the grave. His eyes lit up as he pulled off his backpack to rummage around in it, remembering something. He pulled out a sheet of paper, and after some more digging, a pencil. He leaned over to the headstone and pulled off most of the vegetation from it, delicately brushing off the rest so as to not further degrade the old headstone. Positioning the paper over the faded inscription, William began running the pencil over the paper to make a negative image of the words, or a gravestone rubbing.
The name ‘Charlotte Leighton’ appeared at the top of the page. As William began to rub over the dates underneath the name, he felt a sudden chill on the back of his neck, the kind of ominous feeling you get when your hair stands on end, and you know someone is watching you. He turned around, expecting to see someone passing by or visiting a grave, but there was no one. His only company was the resident crows perched on nearby headstones, casting long shadows in the rapidly setting sun.
A little unsettled, William quickly finished the rubbing and stashed it in his pack and pocketed the pencil. Finding the rest of the tombstones would have to wait for another day. He was the somewhat daring type, but not so much that he would be caught in a cemetery after dark. One brisk walk later down the path and through the gates and William was on his way home.
***
Later in the evening, William had started on supper. He grabbed a box of pasta and turned around to set it on the counter and nearly ran into a girl that had been standing right behind him. Startled, he stumbled backwards onto the floor. He stared at the elaborately-clad young woman, who showed no emotion and continued to simply look at him. It was a little hard to see her clearly from the floor, as the overhead light was dim. From what William could see, she appeared to be wearing a Victorian-style sleeveless gown and had her rich brown locks done up in a fancy hairstyle.
“W-who are you? Why are you here?” William asked shakily.
“My name is Charlotte. I followed you here because I was lonely. I’ve been alone for a long time, you know…” the girl trailed off with a sad look on her face.
“From where? I never saw you behind me,” William asked. He picked himself off the floor and tried to look busy gathering the spilt noodles. He eyed the knife block. Too far away. The girl looked relatively harmless, but you never know…
“From the cemetery.”
“Why are you here?” William repeated.
“I was lonely, and you visited my grave. I thought you wanted to be friends. That’s why you were there, right?” Charlotte answered. She shifted a little uneasily.
William was about to say something but sputtered at the girl’s response. “Grave? You mean this one?” He walked over to his backpack laying in the chair and pulled out the gravestone rubbing he had taken earlier. The girl nodded. “You’re Charlotte Leighton? Is that your great-great grandma or something?”
“That’s the same one. But not my grandmother’s,” Charlotte corrected. “It’s mine.”
William laughed. “What, are you a ghost or something? Yeah right, you’re not see-through or anything. I can see you right in front of me.”
The girl gave a little smile and stepped closer to William. His expression quickly changed from one of curiosity and nervousness to terror and pain when she thrust her arm directly through the center of his chest and grabbed his heart from the inside.
He was frozen. It felt as if an icicle had been rammed through his chest and out the other side. William had never felt such cold before. As he fell to the floor, he wondered if he would ever feel warmth again.