The Mayborne Cemetery was always cold, even on a summer day.

The phenomenon was widely known by the locals, who often whispered of other strange occurrences they would experience while visiting the graveyard.

Shadows passing by the corners of their sight, ghostly whispers that sent chills down their spines, flowers growing overnight at gravesites. Most of it was hearsay of course, since this never stopped them from making it death's abode. Even with the inexplicable, persistent cold that seemed to perpetually permeate the grounds, the cemetery was a growing necropolis.

The sun had begun to set as the crisp autumn breeze coalesced the graveyard's unfailing wintery gust. An eerie orange glow spread across the sky as the sound of rustling leaves frolicked across the gravestones.

The grass had already browned, crunching under Dominic's black and white converses, still suffering from the fervent scorch of the summer sun.

Dominic zipped his puffer coat up as he trudged across the grounds, placing the hood of his black jacket over his ruffled curls before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

It didn't matter that it was the beginning of autumn, the cemetery was cold all year round.

He made his way south of the large oak tree situated in the middle of the yard and its long branches stretched out in welcome, casting dappled shadows on the ground from the remainder of the sun.

The watchful gazes of the stone angels and weathered memorials seemed endless but he had already memorized the path to his parent's resting place.

This was his 10th consecutive day coming here since the funeral. His grandfather, Joel, with whom they had given custody of Dominic, hadn't even stayed until it finished.

Joel Gray was a quiet man. Dominic always had the feeling that he didn't like him very much. The day he moved into his house, all he had said was to try and move on but how could he?

Every time Dominic looked in the mirror he saw his mother's chestnut eyes, brimming with warmth. His father's dark hair, tawny beige skin, and round face completed his reflection, further haunting him with the memory of his parents.

It was as if he had been caught in a loop of reminiscence and sorrow, tortured by the reminders of their loss.

But grief wasn't the only thing that had brought him back here, day after day. No, there was something else fueling his return. Something abnormal and mysterious.

On the first day of his return, the headstone had been defaced and decorated.

Wildflowers of dashing spring colors bloomed on top of the soil, curving and twisting around the headstone. Sunflowers, daisies, poppies, and lupines bold and daring practically sprung up overnight, a stark contrast to the dreary dull of burnt grass carpeting the rest of the grounds.

The deliberate selection and arrangement of these particular wildflowers suggested a thoughtful and intentional gesture. But as everything else browned and wilted with the coming of autumn, their appearance in this drab cemetery was both striking and perplexing.

As if this was not strange enough, written on to the headstone with what seemed like charcoal were the words "I'm sorry".

The first day he had been so angry at the violation, he ripped out the roots of the flowers and flung them aside. Then, he used the sleeves of his hoodie to erase the words, leaving a dark smudge by his mother's name.

After 3 days of this, he decided he wanted to catch the perpetrator. He did not believe the foolish prattle of the Greenville townsfolk. Ghosts were not real and they certainly were not gardeners. Someone was doing this and he wanted to know who and why.

Despite his efforts, that is, showing up at different times of the day, he had given up since he would always arrive after it was done.

Now, Dominic tasked himself with the duty of cleaning it and this made him feel better than simply only brooding and mulling in quiet contemplation about the agonizing loss.

As he headed in the direction of his parent's resting place, he noticed someone already there and a sense of triumph overtook him.

Finally, he had caught them.

He could only see the top of their head, bobbing up and down as they knelt before the headstone but he was sure that they were the person he had been looking for.

"Hey, you!" Dominic shouted.

Her head shot up in fright as she looked at him. He could barely see her face under the dim, orange light of the sunset but it was obvious she was young.

In one swift movement, she was on her feet, taking off across the cemetery.

Dominic could see the blue and white uniform of St. Peter's Academy quite well as he took off after her, dropping his bag by his parent's headstone.

St. Peter's Academy was the only Catholic school in the town of Greenville and their students were championed as women of class and God.

Dominic could not help but think how a classy lady could get into vandalism but he'd surely ask if he managed to catch her.

The girl practically drifted across the grounds,  knowingly maneuvering around each grave.

As she ran past the gate, Dominic caught the sight of some guy entering and an idea struck him immediately.

"Catch that grave robber!" He bellowed.

The man looked confused, not noticing the cat-and-mouse chase taking place in the cemetery. Before he could even react to Dominic's command, the girl ran straight into him and both of them tumbled backward onto the ground.

When he finally caught up to her, they were both wrestling each other against the dry grass trying to untangle themselves from one another.

"How are you even touching me right now?" Dominic heard her ask. Not giving her a moment to get away, he hauled her up by her arms and spun her around to face him.

"Who are you? And why do you keep vandalizing my parent's grave?" Dominic demanded, slightly shaking her as he spoke.

He could see her in entirety now but words failed to properly describe her countenance. In fact, had he not been angry right now, he would have been smitten.

Her skin was cold and pale under his touch, her long brunette hair parted down the middle in voluminous curls. She had a single beauty mark under her right eye and it complimented the honey-gold irises situated in each center. She was glowing with frigid allure, her body luminescent during the evening's twilight. And when she looked at him, her eyes seemed to take him and the world in through a different view.

"I wasn't vandalizing it! I was decorating. You come here every day and you look so sad. I just wanted to make you feel better. I'm sorry," she contended.

Even her voice was disparate, almost like a hushed echo.

Dominic's eye twitched at the sincerity of her tone, shame replacing his anger as he let her go. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done or said to him since the accident and he couldn't find the strength to lash out at a stranger's goodwill.

"Just please stop," his voice low with discomfiture.

"Uhm, what just happened?" The other guy struggled to his feet.

Though they all looked to be the same age, he was shorter than them both. His coppery skin was smooth but beaded with sweat despite the frigid air and his low trim made him look like an army man. He wore a graphic tee of an alligator in glasses with baggy jeans and boots that reminded Dominic of 80's fashion.

Dominic didn't answer for fear that a conversation would ensue. It was getting dark and he hadn't gotten to visit his parent's grave because of what happened.

Turning on his heels to leave, he almost fell as a wave of faintness washed his entire body.

His skin became heated, feverish even, as his mind flashed through a haze of memories that didn't belong to him. A white room with a familiar beeping sound, dark woods, the echo of a scream, and flowers so beautiful and sweet smelling that it made him nauseous.

He was sure he was about to pass out but strong arms hoisted him up in support as he felt the guy place a hand around his waist before throwing Dominic's left arm over his shoulder.

"You alright, man?" The guy questioned, concern lacing his tone.

Dominic nodded, trying to recover from his sudden dizzy spell.

When he finally came to, both persons were staring at him, worry imminent in their features.

"I'm fine," he reaffirmed after a beat, turning to leave once more.

The sound of their footsteps followed him at every turn until he arrived at his parent's grave.

"Will you guys quit following me?" Dominic snapped.

"I'm not following you, I live over there," the girl pointed but Dominic didn't care to look.

"I'm gonna keep it real with y'all, I have no idea where I am," the guy told them.

"You're in a cemetery," the girl responded.

"You don't say?"

"How did you get here if you don't know where you are?" she asked.

"I don't know! I walked. I've been walking for a while now. And I just felt like I should come here."

Rolling his eyes, Dominic grabbed his bag and walked off.

"Wait! Aren't you going to tell me your name?" the girl called after him.

"No!" he shouted back.

"Mine's Celia!"

"And mine's Key!"

Fanning them off, Dominic left the cemetery.

The walk home was a silent one as he recalled the day's events. Though the interaction with Celia and Key was strange and his sudden dizzy spell and unfamiliar memories stranger, it wasn't enough to distract his bleeding heart from the sorrowful whip of anguish.

He recalled his father's words to him at his high school graduation last July, kicking a pebble he had found on the side of the street while walking.

"It's never too late to do a good thing," he had said in encouragement after I told them how awful I felt to be graduating a year late.

Marcus Gray always knew what to say. He was that kind of man and that kind of father. Dominic wondered what he would say if he saw him like this. What inspiration could he possibly drive into someone who had given up?

Stepping inside the house, Dominic kicked off his shoes before picking them up in his hand.

His grandfather's country house stood in eerie silence at the end of a winding gravel driveway, its weathered exterior proof of its age. The lawn had always been a carpet of unkempt, overgrown weeds, giving birth to the idea that this place was uninhabited.

The huge backyard trailed off into the lonely woods like a sinister invitation to the unknown, so unnerving that Dominic never bothered to ever venture there.

Even though he drove, he would often walk to the cemetery, parking the pickup van his dad gifted him in the front yard after clocking out at the local supermarket.

He was glad no one was home. But then again, he was often alone here.

His grandfather left at 5 am every morning and came back around 10 every night. He would then head up to the attic where he spent hours and hours.

Dominic often wondered what he was doing up there so late but he tried to stay out of his way, so it was something he would never actually ask.

Placing his shoes at the kitchen door, he grabbed a pack of Doritos from the pantry and a can of Sprite before heading upstairs.

It was in the quiet solitude of his room, that the world outside seemed both infinitely vast and intimately close to Dominic.

His parents, who had once been the very essence of his world for so long, were no longer part of it and with that, they opened a void no words could fill. Yet, sitting atop the base of his window, the crescent moon shining down on his face while he stuffed his mouth full of chips, Dominic discovered this ritual of eating and counting the stars had brought him an inexplicable sense of peace.

He liked to think about what he would have been doing had they still been here. Probably playing pool together, since he was always incredibly good at it.

A knock drew him from his thoughts, causing him to check his watch to see if it was already 10.

Dominic always tried his best to not run into his grandfather but on very rare occasions, he would knock for him to open the door rather than use his key. He never questioned it but he always told himself that maybe, he just wanted to see him because he looked like his son.

Heaving a dreadful sigh, Dominic opened the door to see Key, the guy from the cemetery, standing on his front porch.

————————————————-