Not Ours to Keep

            There were a few tendrils of river fog not yet burnt off by the morning sun occasionally obscuring the path and ghosting headstones among the trees on either side.  Ren moved to the left edge, which at this point had become a narrow access road that meandered through the gentle low hills.  He didn’t want to be surprised by two headlights suddenly appearing in the mist.  Hank kept his little truck running so quietly, he might not hear it approaching.  As he stepped out of one patch of fog a glimmering in another under some pines about fifty feet to his left caught his eye. ‘Could be sunlight off Hank’s truck windows.  Maybe he’s preparing a plot.’  Unless – it was a light left by some kids trying to scare themselves.  There had never really been any serious damage done by the local kids.  Rarely, a small fire would start from candles knocked over by someone fleeing from imagined ghosts (usually an owl).  Remembering the gates, and the unsteadiness of the light, he considered that possibility.

            Not considering someone might still be there, he stepped off the path into a particularly dense patch of fog and began making his way up a gentle slope towards where he last saw the shimmering patch of light.  After skirting several headstones he was lost.  ‘No, wait – Sue-Li’s right over…?’  The light flickered again.  It had a “funny” quality, more electric than fire-like.  Not reflective, glowing of itself.  Feeling like a moth, he advanced until he came up at an angle behind a stone at the head of an open grave, at its bottom the maw of the empty concrete vault.  Along the near side, lay a tarnished coffin.  The top was open.  “Damn!”  This was going too far.  He paused, unsure if he should check whose grave it was, or immediately go find Hank.  It was already too late not to notice the coffin.  His heart was pounding.  “Damned thing’s empty!”  A sudden morning breeze and the mist thinned out considerably.  “What the Hell!?…”

            Not eight feet away on the grave’s far side was a tall rectangular column of earth, approximately waist high.  Like a core sample, with a layer of untouched grass on top and two wide bands of different soil types layered beneath – obviously from the open grave.  It had razor sharp edges, as though it had been cut with a knife.  Impossibly, the column included the vault’s cap as its bottom layer.  A gut feeling told him to run but he was frozen to the spot, afraid he’d end up stumbling over or worse meet face to face the recently vacated coffin’s occupant.  He felt a chill creeping up his spine as his skin crawled.  Something about that column of soil... and the heavy vault lid – ‘How…?’