The sky was the colour of pewter, the clouds dragging their weight low over the horizon as the last of the daylight bled away.

Hannah tugged her denim jacket tighter around her and glanced sideways at her friend.

“Come on, Lila,” she said, forcing a light tone, “it’s just a shortcut. Five minutes tops.”

Lila bit her lip. “Through the cemetery, Hannah. At dusk. You know I hate that place.”

“You hate everything after sunset,” Hannah teased, trying to sound braver than she felt. The iron gates of Willowbrook Cemetery loomed ahead—tall, black, and cold to the touch when she pushed one open. It gave a slow, reluctant groan that seemed to echo down the rows of headstones.

They both paused.

The air smelled of damp leaves and old stone. Crows shuffled on the branches of yew trees above, their movements sending down a spatter of rain that hadn’t yet decided whether to fall properly. Beyond the gates, the path cut straight through the burial ground and led out onto the other side of the village. It was the fastest way home—but every local child knew the stories.

Hannah glanced again at her friend’s pale face. “If we don’t go through, we’ll have to walk the long way round by the river, and it’s nearly dark already.”

Lila sighed and nodded. “Fine. But if I see anything move, I’m running.”

They stepped inside. The gates clanged shut behind them.

The light dimmed almost instantly, as though the trees had drawn the dusk down like a curtain. Gravel crunched beneath their trainers; the air grew still. They walked quickly, their arms brushing occasionally, both pretending not to notice the way the hair on their arms stood up.

About halfway down the path, they saw him.

A man knelt by one of the graves, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched beneath a dark overcoat. He looked as though he’d been there a long while—motionless, save for the faint rise and fall of his chest. A small bouquet of faded white roses lay beside him, the petals curling like paper.

Lila slowed. “Maybe we should wait till he’s gone.”

But Hannah had an idea. “Or we could ask him to walk with us. You know, safety in numbers?”

Lila stared at her. “You’re seriously going to ask a total stranger to walk us through a graveyard?”

“Would you rather walk alone?”

Lila hesitated, then shook her head.

So Hannah cleared her throat and stepped forward a few paces. “Excuse me?” she called softly. “Sorry to bother you.”

The man turned his head slightly. He was older than she’d expected—late thirties maybe, though it was hard to tell in the dim light. His face was pale, the expression gentle but unreadable.

“Yes?” His voice was calm, almost distant.

“Um—sorry if this sounds weird,” Hannah said, feeling suddenly childish, “but we’re walking through to the village, and it’s getting kind of dark. Would you mind… walking with us? Just till the gate?”

The man studied them for a moment, then gave a faint smile. “Of course. I understand. It can be… unsettling here at night.”

He rose slowly, brushing the dirt from his knees. As he stood, Hannah noticed how tall he was—over six feet, but not imposing. His coat hung neatly, though a little old-fashioned.

“Thank you,” Lila murmured, clutching her arms around herself.

They started along the path together, the wind beginning to stir the branches overhead. Dead leaves whispered across the ground like soft footsteps.

“So,” Hannah said, trying to sound casual, “do you come here often?”

The man smiled faintly. “More often than I used to.”

“Oh. Visiting family?”

“Something like that.”

They walked on in silence for a bit. The light was nearly gone now; only a silvery smear of twilight lingered over the trees. The wind had picked up, tugging strands of Lila’s hair across her face.

She spoke suddenly, her voice small. “I always thought cemeteries would feel peaceful. But this one doesn’t.”

“They are peaceful,” the man said softly. “It’s just that the living bring their fear with them.”

Lila frowned, uncertain how to reply. Hannah forced a little laugh. “Guess we’re doing a good job of that, huh?”

He smiled again, but didn’t answer.

The crunch of gravel beneath their feet filled the silence. Somewhere behind them, something creaked—a tree branch perhaps, or something else. The two girls glanced back, but the path was empty, shadows stretching long between the stones.

“You know,” Hannah said after a moment, “I’ve lived here all my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.”

“I don’t come into town much these days.”

“Are you from around here, though?”

He nodded. “Born here. Died here, too.”

Hannah chuckled nervously, assuming it was a dark joke. “Right. Me too, probably, if we don’t get out of here soon.”

Lila gave her a sharp look. “Don’t say that.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. He only looked ahead, as if watching something far away.

They passed a row of tall marble crosses. The wind sighed through the trees again, louder this time, carrying the faint scent of rain. Hannah glanced up and saw the first few drops falling, silver against the dark.

“How far is it to the gate?” Lila asked.

“Just a few minutes more,” Hannah said, though she wasn’t sure. Everything looked different now—the shadows shifting, the path seeming longer than before.

A loose bouquet rolled across their path, blown by the wind. Lila jumped.

The man bent, picked it up, and placed it gently on a nearby grave. “It’s easy to forget things,” he murmured, “especially when you’re in a hurry.”

They walked in silence after that. Hannah noticed that the air felt colder around him, the mist starting to form where his breath should have been—but wasn’t. She told herself it was just her imagination.

Finally, through the trees, the iron gates came into view. Relief washed over her. The sky beyond was a deep indigo now, the first stars trembling faintly above the rooftops of the village.

When they reached the gates, the man paused. The girls turned to face him.

“Thank you,” Hannah said, smiling, though her voice trembled slightly. “We really appreciate it. I know it’s silly, but we both hate cemeteries—especially at night.”

The man’s eyes softened. “I used to be like that,” he said quietly. “When I was still alive.”

For a heartbeat, neither girl spoke.

Then Hannah blinked. “What—?”

But before she could finish, the wind surged through the trees, scattering the last of the leaves into the air. The man’s form seemed to blur—edges dissolving like smoke in the breeze. His coat fluttered once, then his outline faded entirely, leaving only the faint scent of damp earth behind.

The girls froze. Lila’s hand clutched Hannah’s arm so tightly it hurt.

“He’s—he’s gone,” she whispered.

Hannah turned slowly, staring at the path they’d just walked. The grave he’d been kneeling beside was visible now through the gloom. Something about the shape of it tugged at her. She stepped closer, Lila protesting softly behind her.

The inscription on the stone caught the last flicker of twilight:

In Loving Memory of Thomas Avery

Born 1896 – Died 1918

Forever at Peace

Below the name lay a small bouquet of faded white roses.

Lila’s breath hitched. “That’s—those are the flowers he had.”

Hannah said nothing. The wind whispered again, carrying through the trees, almost like a sigh. Then the rain began to fall in earnest, pattering softly on the graves, washing the last light from the stones.

They ran the rest of the way home, neither daring to look back.

Later, as they reached the glow of the village streetlamps, Hannah slowed, breathing hard. “Lila,” she said quietly, “you felt his hand when he helped you over that branch, right?”

Lila nodded, eyes wide. “It was cold,” she whispered. “Like metal.”

Hannah shivered.

The rain thickened, blurring the world into grey. Behind them, through the mist, Willowbrook Cemetery lay silent once more—its paths empty, its stones unmoving. But if one were to look closely, they might see a figure standing by a certain grave, bowing his head gently as though in farewell, before fading again into the dusk that never quite left that place.