Ichabod

The wind howled and the breeze that followed rattled the stool, the noise jerked the drunk old man back into consciousness. Old Adam opened his sleepy eyes a little. He wiped the saliva from the bottom of his lips where he sat hunched over in his lounge chair, Everywhere in the cemetery was pitch black. How come the night came so suddenly? The old man thought in his mind. It was barely hours ago when the sky was painted in hues of different colors...

The little fire he had made close to him to get him warmed was already out and he began to search for his torch, with his hands searching everything on the stool and around him, blindly. At first, his hand touched the metal cup on the table, he was careful enough not to tip the cup over. Finally, he felt his feet pressing on something hard on the ground, and then he remembered, he had purposely kept the torch under his feet for easy finding. Old age was catching on him. He turned on the torch but the night was too thick and there was not a single star in sight. The torch in his hand could only allow him to see about an arm's reach in front of him but it was not a problem, he was used to this.

Slowly, he stood up from his chair, it was almost time for him to leave the grave yard, he was supposed to stay till the following morning but these days, no one was supervising him, meaning he could leave anytime it grew dark, no one would come to find him or ask for anything. Except someone who wanted to speak to the dead-there was no such person.

Slowly, he removed his jacket from where he had hung it around the chair and dipped the bottom of the torch into his mouth, holding it in place with both lips while he stuck a hand into the jacket to wear it comfortably.

Apart from the darkness and himself, the only thing that existed was the chilly wind that sent harsh bites through his jacket and into his skin. It was very cold, unusually cold. His blood was running cold and his hands became stiff.

He placed the stool in its rightful place and folded up the lounge chair. He would need to lock the east gate before going to his house. He groaned, but he knew there was no choice.

Minutes later, he was walking slowly and carefully, bypassing the graves towards the east side. While he walked, he kept flashing the torch at the tombstones so as not bump into any of them. He wondered why the night was this cold, the day had been so hot and now, well, maybe they were having a weather change, His mind drifted off to the hot cocoa he would have on getting home, the thought of that sent warmth through his entire body and he smiled to himself but the excitement was cut short as he suddenly hit his hand against something heavy and sharp.

"Oh my God!" He yelped in pain, flashing his torch towards the substance and to his dismay, it was a white coffin.

For a while, he thought he was probably still drunk. He rubbed his eyes but there it was.

This was insane! Who would put a coffin just anywhere in a grave yard? He thought to himself. Could this have happened when he was asleep? Did anyone forget to bury their dead loved one? All these questions were running through his mind when all of a sudden he heard a sound.