Supernatural World by Drew L Sharpe

Halloween was always entertaining in New Orleans, and that was the way things had been for years. Albert knew that and for the last few years, he had found ways and reasons to be out of town during the celebration. This year, things hadn’t gone quite to plan. He had made it out of the city, but not to the apartment he had rented in Baton Rouge. On his way, he had helped a young woman that had looked lost. Now, he was standing in the darkness, surrounded by century-old headstones and monuments to the dead.

The moon hung full and heavy in the sky, giving everything a strange glow. He moved along through the rows of headstones. He wasn’t sure what was happening or why he had found himself in a graveyard. As he walked through the rows, he noticed he couldn’t find any dates younger than fifty or sixty years old. “Where in the hell am I?” He asked the darkness.

The wind whistling through the leafless trees was the only answer. Clouds floated through the sky. He stopped beside one of the taller cross-shaped headstones. “Augustus Martin 1723 – 1802,” he paused, “why in the world am I here?” He wasn’t sure why he kept talking to himself, but it seemed to be the normal response to what was happening.

He stepped to the side, putting his hand on the top of the monument. A shadow moved two stones away. A voice filled his mind. “You are in the Delmar Cemetery. It hasn’t had anyone inside its stone walls in more than a hundred years.” 

“So why am I here? Last I knew, I was driving toward Baton Rouge with a hitchhiker,” Albert said.

The voice spoke again, making his skin shiver. “That wasn’t the best choice you could have made. She wasn’t a nice person, even when she was alive. Now, she’s just a creepy little girl who leads people to their doom.”

“Is there a way to get out of here?” Albert asked.

“Not really. She didn’t kill you, she doesn’t have that kind of power, but she does have enough to keep you here forever.” The voice said.

“What do I have to do? Why am I here?” Albert said.

The voice went silent. The darkness encroached closer around him. A howl broke that silence. Albert shivered. “Well, that was unexpected.” He pulled a deep breath into his lungs. 

He spun around to look at the flat lawn where the sound had come from. He saw a large shape standing leaning against one of the tall headstones. It wasn’t human, Albert knew that, but he didn’t know what it was he was looking at. Something about the figure seemed to call to him. He wasn’t scared of it. Whatever it was, didn’t want to hurt him. He raised his voice back to the nameless entity that had spoken to him before. “If I’m not dead, how am I to stay alive?” he asked.

The voice finally responded. “There is a caretaker’s shack on the far side of the cemetery. It belongs to you now. There will always be food inside it, and you will be safe.” 

Albert looked again in the direction of the howling. It was much quieter now, but it was still there. He headed down the row of headstones once more, making his way to the far side of the cemetery. He wasn’t sure he was even going in the correct direction. However, within a few brief moments, he found himself looking at the dark shape of a building. He stepped forward, grasping the handle of the door. 

The moment his fingers touched the metal of the handle, the lamps hanging on either side of the door flashed to life. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. This time, he had to turn the lights on. The flick of a switch illuminated the main room of the shack. He could see a kitchen in the alcove to the right and what looked like a bedroom past it. Across the room from the kitchen and bedroom was a nice-sized fireplace. There was a door on the far side of the room. He figured it lead to a bathroom. “Nice place,” he said. 

Silence answered him, only broken by another oddly powerful howl from the darkness outside. He sat on the couch. There wasn’t a television or anything like it that he could see in the place. Yet there was an antique desk tucked in the corner between the bathroom door and the bedroom area. He walked over to the desk. Looking through the papers on it, he noticed that again, nothing was less than a hundred years old. A moment of scratching at the door attracted his attention. Albert walked back to the now-closed door. He pushed it open. There, in the little grassy area in front of the shack, was a wolf. It was sitting back on its hind legs, his head lifted as if he was looking directly into Albert’s eyes. “Well, hello there. Good to know I’m not the only thing here.”

The wolf sits still, its breath puffing out in little clouds. Albert steps back, allowing room for the wolf to enter the shack. The wolf stands and walks across the threshold into the shack. It settled on the fur rug in front of the empty fireplace. Albert shut the door, somehow knowing the wolf is now not only his protector but also his friend.