Night Moves

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That evening, Dylan picks me up as planned. I'm a little nervous as we drive over to Lakeview. Cresting the cemetery's hilltop, he cuts his car lights. I notice he's also nervous, but well prepared for our excursion. He's brought a flash light and a backpack containing bottled water to combat the heat. When he parks the car and opens his door, I'm momentarily distracted by his muscular build. The white tee shirt and Affliction jeans he's wearing look so cool on his sculpted limbs.

Outside, shadows play against the dark backdrop of trees as we slowly move over the grounds. I find myself tripping over the curb, then clumps of grass, until my eyes adjust to the darkness. As the night progresses, thinning clouds allow the moon and stars to appear above us. I'm immensely relieved when my night vision starts improving. Without incident, we arrive at the ghostly, white mausoleums.

I've never been in a graveyard or a cemetery at night. Now, I realize this place is a hot bed of paranormal activity. A white mist slithers over the ground, swirling at our feet. Out of this vapor, shimmering agitated lights rise, hovering over their graves. They flutter like brilliant moths. Tongues of auric flames flick out of the ghostly images, making my hair stand on end. I'm amazed I can sense how many spirits are surrounding us. They're aware of us, but they seem to be keeping their distance. As if they're unsure of our intrusion. I don't tell Dylan. I want him to stay focused in case we need to tear out of here.

Unaware of the specters ogling us, Dylan comes to a stop in front of Katherine Stanford's massive mausoleum. Reading her name out loud, he shines his flashlight on her engraved name. Satisfied it's the murder victim we're looking for, he turns back to me whispering, "This is it. How do you want to make contact?"

"Just like you would knock on any stranger's door. I'm going to be respectful and polite." Slowly, I approach the ghostly, white abode.

Dylan is looking at me like we're extras in a low budget horror movie. Although I'm as nervous as a shivering chihuahua, I repress my fear, not wanting to disappoint him. Standing there clueless, I try to make believe I'm selling my favorite Girl Scout cookies, Thin Mints. I could eat a whole box of them right now.

"Hello! Katherine?" I call out into the darkness surrounding her final resting place. I wait a moment, but nothing happens. Before I try again, I ask Dylan to shut off his flashlight. "Katherine Stanford. If you're here, we'd really like to speak with you."

There's still nothing. I hear Dylan reach down and start fumbling in the dark. Opening his back pack, he pulls out a harmonica. I'm nearly blown over with surprise when he starts playing a haunting melody, like a modern Pied Piper. Suddenly, the air is filled with a strong current of energy.

I don't have to wait long before I sense Katherine's presence. I almost jump out of my skin when I hear her speak. "I'm here. What do you want?" Unlike the shimmering lights hovering over their graves, Katherine's ghost  manifests as a full body apparition. A pale ethereal woman with long hair, clad in a flowing, white gown, I watch as she walks around the side of the mausoleum. I'm a little surprised how natural it feels to see her. It's as if she was out back in her garden, then was lured to the front of the vault when she heard the music. The only thing that makes her look like she's not alive is the fact I can see through parts of her form. As if she's a thinning, whispery cloud.

I look over at Dylan, but he hasn't seen or heard her. I realize only I can hear her, in my mind. "She's here," I whisper.

Dylan's voice becomes animated. "Tell her why we came."

I speak out loud so Dylan can hear me. "Katherine, I'm Elizabeth, and this is Dylan. We want to ask you something. "Do you remember what happened to you the night you were murdered?"

I see the ghost woman turn away, looking distraught. I'm alarmed when she starts weeping hysterically. "Why did I have to die so young?" She's making a terrible keening sound that could actually wake the dead. Involuntarily, I flinch as the edges of her form turn red with anger. Auric flames are erupting around her like a crematorium oven's been ignited. Mentally, I kick myself for letting Dylan pressure me into asking such a painful question right off the bat. "I've made a mistake," I tell Dylan. "She's upset. Of course she doesn't want to think about her death right off."

"Katherine! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you. Is there anything we can do for you?" I keep sending her soothing thoughts, while Dylan quietly waits.

The dead woman calms down. Her aura cools to the same glow of a burner's white hot pilot flame, tipped in blue. Realizing how delicate spirit's emotions are when they're still tied to the earth, I try a different tack with her.

"Katherine, why haven't you moved on. Why are you still here?"

I hear the fervor in her voice as she answers my question. Interacting with the living seems to have energized her. "I'm still here because of him!" Her aura flares up the spectrum to a searing yellow, fringed with orange flames. A burst of painful sadness and fear emanates from her, causing me to shiver.

Dylan pipes up. "What's she saying?"

"Wait, she's still explaining." I focus back on Katherine. "Who do you mean?" I cautiously ask the ghost.

She starts shrieking, her pitiful wails making me wince. "He murdered me!"

"Maybe we can help you figure out who he is. The man who hurt you." My heart begins to beat rapidly in my chest. I wonder if it's because I'm sharing her pain. She stops talking. Her flame extinguishes so quickly, I feel like a door's been slammed in my face. "Katherine? Hallo?"

Dylan's impatient, then adamant "What happened?"

"I don't know, she just left."

Suddenly, I see glowing letters form on the wall of the tomb. "Dylan, look!"

Fireflies have coalesced, spelling out a message. It says, Find the Gray Wolf.

  It says, Find the Gray Wolf

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