The men were taking small sips amidst the cold breeze. They were sitting over the pedestal under the statue with a lantern between them. "You know Sir Reginald Kravis?"

Derek shook his head. "Don't recall such"

"The person right above you!", the old man laughed. Derek presented an uncanny smile.

"So he was a soldier?"

"A Soldier?? You thought he was a soldier?", he laughed louder. "Ah no no no. He was a big big businessman. Owner of a big chain of shoe shops around the town. Pretty wealthy man. He was the founder of this cemetery. An eccentric equestrian, hence the horse you see". Derek was waiting for a window to pounce at the man. He wanted it to be gentle. After all, a kind old man, he thought.

The old man continued, "The cemetery's actually been closed for a long time now. They didn't need a man to look after it for a long time. But it was around last month we got some graves shifted here that led to my appointment. They just rarely do such stuff when they suddenly feel the land is cursed or the yard is destroyed for some reason. More often, they aren't even able to contact their dear ones... but all in all, you see, the dead helping out the ones living. The cycle of life..." As Derek took another sip of his tea, he noticed his tea wasn't much warm enough. He thought of throwing the tea on that man's wrinkled face and as the warm tea would make the man wince in shock and pain, he would climb upon him and strangle him just enough to faint him.

"... as you see, Matthew. I used to work at one such shop. Not shoes, but kid's accessories. You see, I had been working there for so many years..."

As Derek noticed the old man was diverted in his description, he turned towards him and quickly spilled his tea on the man's face. Then dropping the cup when he was about to pounce ahead, he was taken aback and he slipped and fell down on his back instead. The old man didn't blink an eye. The tea fell on his face and dripped down his cheeks and chin. But the old man was undisturbed.

"... but then one day...", he slowly looked down at Derek. His eyes were cold. Derek was staring at him in astonishment. The light from the lantern shone upon that steady, horrific face. The old man continued, "That one day the owner had to hire his nephew to help him with his expenses. Expenses?" He was smiling. The smile was cunning. "Expenses for a rich brat?" He took a small pause. Derek was gazing at the old man's eyes. The thought of getting up was far too distant. "Apparently he had been suspended from his college and had to make some money by himself to prove his worth". The old man got up on his feet and wiped the warm tea off his face which had reddened by now.

He looked down at Derek. "You know what they did?" He leaned closer to Derek who crawled back a little in shock. This man is a lunatic - he thought. "They fired me!!", the old man screamed into the silent night and cackled aloud. "For fuck's sake! They fired the old man in his shop who, he explained, was scary for the little children, and he needed more young faces". Derek's eyes had widened. He could feel his skin crawling. He was unable to move with amazement and was unable to understand what this old man was trying to do.

"Oh, I was so disappointed, Derek". How does he know my name?! "I was so so disappointed... I hung my head down as I left and was completely dejected. I just handed back that absurd rabbit cap and left the store, Derek. Oh it was so sad and infuriating". Derek slowly took his hand into his pocket and held the knife.

"I just couldn't look up as I walked ahead onto the street... It was when I heard a loud screech of the tires and as I looked up..." Derek pushed himself up onto his knees and stabbed the knife right into the man's chest. He was panting fast with fear.

But the old man didn't move. Didn't wince. Didn't stumble. Neither did he even glance down. He smiled and looked closely into Derek's eyes. Their eyes were very close. Derek felt his heart stop and then pound fast There was no blood. "You know, as I looked up, it was the second-last thing I ever saw with my real eyes." He grinned.

"I was tossed up into the air by the truck. It hit my waist." The old man's waist cracked and bent. Derek's eyes widened and he was about to jack back but the old man held his hands on the knife. "I hit the lamp post nearby...". His shoulder twitched. "I landed straight on my face, Derek..." There was suddenly a big cut on the old man's forehead. Blood spluttered out upon Derek's face and then started trickling down the man's face rapidly. The man's right arm broke and dislocated and that helped Derek free himself out of the old man's grip. He pushed himself back.

Blood had filled the old man's gums and his teeth had become red. The grin on the man's face looked more horrifying. "I would have survived, Derek... I would have, you see. I was alive. But you know what was the last thing I saw?" The old man looked at Derek sharply. "The man behind the wheel didn't stop. He had to flee the scene, and then..." The old man's neck snapped and his skull crushed as his head imploded with an outburst of blood. He knelt and fell on his chest.

Derek screamed and started running away. Fear had overcome him and there was suddenly some life in his legs. He ran for the gate, jumped over a memorial, and went for the gravel path before the huge gates. There was a dense mist ahead of him. He could see the gravel beneath darkened by the tall wilting tress. Derek jumped into the mist and as he came out, he was shocked to see himself standing just where the old man should be lying; only that the man was missing and there was a pool of blood beneath. He went for the run again, jumped over the pool and back to the mist only to emerge at the same spot all over again. He pulled at his hair, closed his eyes and screamed. He was trapped.

"Martha!!". Derek was perplexed when he heard a man crying. He looked around and felt as if the mist was circling around him. He followed the noise. His steps were slow and alarmed. He didn't know what was happening to him or was he drugged by that old man that was making him hallucinate. To his astonishment, he noticed an open pit along his path. He stopped and searched for his torch. He seemed to have dropped it somewhere in the frenzy.

Derek moved closer to the gravestone and read it-

Ross White

D.O.B 20-06-1949

D.O.D 28-04-2023

It was when he heard the screaming again. "No Martha please! Please don't leave me". Derek started running in the direction of the voice.