Lisa stood at the edge of the cemetery, hands shoved into the pockets of her oversized black hoodie. She was fairly certain she was the only teenager in town who could look at a gravestone and not feel a little uncomfortable. While her classmates spent their weekends at the mall or gossiping about parties they wouldn't be invited to, Lisa had an entirely different way of spending her free time.
A soft breeze rustled the leaves around her, and she smiled at the sound of it. There was something oddly soothing about the silence that only a graveyard could offer. She often wondered why people felt the need to mourn in such loud, dramatic ways. A person had to die at some point, right? The real tragedy was when they didn't die. The ones that stuck around, annoying everyone with their constant breath and chatter.
She could already hear her mother's voice echoing in her head, reminding her that she was too obsessed with death, that she should focus on something less morbid like college applications or, God forbid, learning to cook a proper meal.
But no. Lisa had bigger, more interesting things to worry about. Like how to summon a spirit without actually having to deal with the inconvenience of a séance, or finding a way to get a ghost to follow her around. Nothing screams quirky like a paranormal sidekick.
And, of course, there was the matter of him.
Ah, I almost forgot about you, she muttered, squatting down by the worn stone of a particularly neglected grave. It was one of those old, cracked headstones, the kind that looked like it had seen things. The kind of grave that never seemed to get fresh flowers. Lisa ran her fingers over the name etched into the stone: Jonathan Price—Beloved Son, Died Too Soon. He'd been dead for over a century. No one remembered him now, but Lisa liked to think of him as her sort-of friend.
Don't get too cocky, Jonathan, she whispered. You're still dead. Just thought I'd stop by.
She glanced over her shoulder. The cemetery was quiet, as usual. A couple of ravens perched on the highest branches of a nearby oak tree, watching her like they were in on some private joke.
Alright, enough with the dramatics, she muttered, standing up and dusting herself off. Time for a snack. I could really go for some chocolate right now."
As Lisa turned to leave, something caught her eye. A shadow. Not like the usual long, twisting shadows that stretched across the cemetery as the sun dipped low in the sky. No, this was different. A figure. A person—or something like one—standing by the old mausoleum at the far end of the yard.
Her breath hitched. She'd been coming here for years, and no one ever visited this part of the graveyard. But there it was, a dark figure standing still, almost as though it were waiting for her.
Great. Just when I thought this place couldn't get more freaky.
Her first instinct was to ignore it, pretend she hadn't seen anything. After all, it was probably just some idiot who got lost on their way to the coffee shop. But something made her pause, something that tickled the back of her neck, urging her to move closer.
She slipped between the gravestones, her heart racing not from fear, but from anticipation.
Maybe today would be interesting after all.
As she approached, she noticed a faint, peculiar scent in the air—rotting wood mixed with fresh earth, like something that had been buried and was now… exposed again.
Okay, she whispered to herself, what's going on here?
The figure turned, just enough that Lisa could see its face—or rather, the half of it that wasn't obscured by a dark, tattered cloak. The other half? Well, that was a problem.
Lisa's jaw dropped. It was a man—or at least, it had been. His skin was pale, almost gray, and it hung from his face in folds. His eyes? Hollow. Just empty sockets staring back at her. His mouth twitched slightly, as though trying to form words, but all Lisa could hear was a low rasping sound.
Ugh, you're new, Lisa said, trying to keep her voice steady. She stepped forward, intrigued despite herself. You're not from around here, are you? Can't say I've seen your type before.
The figure opened its mouth again, but before any sound could escape, Lisa held up a hand. Wait, don't tell me. You're a ghost, right?
He nodded. At least, Lisa thought he did. It was hard to tell with his head lolling to one side like that.
Okay. Good to know. Lisa wasn't one to get freaked out easily, but the whole situation was definitely strange. So, uh, what's your name? Or should I just call you 'Hey You' for short?
The figure's hollow eyes flickered as if it were trying to process her words. After a long pause, he rasped something—barely audible, a whisper carried by the wind.
...Lisa…
Lisa blinked, her breath catching. "Wait. What did you just say?"
...Lisa…
Oh, okay, now this is getting weird, she muttered, looking around. "Is this some kind of prank?
The figure took a step toward her, his movements slow, jerky, but still somehow... familiar. The air seemed to crackle with tension, as though the ground beneath her was somehow shifting. Or maybe it was her nerves.
No. This was real. This wasn't a prank.
"Are you trying to tell me something? Because if this is about my obsession with the dead, I get it. I mean, I know I'm not normal, but—
A shrill sound broke through her words, followed by a crash from behind her. Lisa spun around just in time to see a fresh mound of earth shifting under the weight of something—or someone—pushing upward.
Her heart raced. Was this... was this real?
Before she could react, the world around her tilted. The figure's face shifted into something—someone—familiar. Jonathan Price.
Her heart skipped a beat.
And then the real chaos began.