THE CEMETERY AT NIGHT

Chapter 1: Whispers in the Fog

Sami Jones stared out of his office window, watching the mist curl through the narrow streets of Gettysburg. The fog had settled heavily over the town, making it look as if it were trapped in an endless twilight. It was late afternoon, but the light had already begun to fade, casting long, haunting shadows over the cobblestone streets.

His desk was cluttered with spreadsheets and old ledger books, but his mind was far from the mundane tasks of balancing accounts. Ever since the night of his sister's death, Sami had felt a growing unease—a sense that something was waiting for him, something tied to the old cemetery he passed every day on his way to work.

A knock on the door pulled him from his reverie. It was his colleague, Grace, her face etched with concern. "Sami, are you alright? You've been distant lately."

He forced a smile. "Just a lot on my mind, Grace. I've been meaning to take a walk to clear my head."

Grace nodded but didn't look convinced. "If you need anything, just let me know."

Sami watched her leave, the door closing with a soft click. He glanced at the clock on the wall—it was almost time to leave for the day. With a sigh, he packed up his things and made his way to the small office on the bank's second floor.

As he stepped outside, the fog enveloped him like a shroud. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and headed toward the cemetery, a place he had avoided since his sister's death. The cemetery loomed ahead, its wrought iron gates barely visible through the dense mist.

The eerie quiet of the cemetery seemed to amplify his own apprehension. Sami hesitated at the entrance, the gate creaking as he pushed it open. He had come here with the intent of facing his fears, but now that he was here, the cold grip of dread settled in his chest.

He wandered through the narrow paths, the tall gravestones looming like silent sentinels. His thoughts drifted to the crypt he had seen in his nightmares—a heavy, ornate structure that seemed to draw him in. As he neared the center of the cemetery, the fog thickened, and a sense of foreboding grew stronger.

Suddenly, he heard a soft whisper, barely audible over the rustle of leaves. It was a voice, faint but unmistakable, murmuring his name. "Sami..."

He spun around, but there was no one in sight. His heart raced, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Hello? Is someone there?"

The whisper came again, this time more insistent. "Sami... Help me..."

The voice seemed to come from the direction of the old crypt. Sami's footsteps felt heavier as he approached the structure, his breath visible in the chill of the fog. The crypt was even more imposing up close, its ancient stonework covered in creeping ivy. The door was slightly ajar, and a cold draft slipped through the gap.

Sami hesitated before pushing the door open wider. Inside, the air was damp and musty. The flickering light from his phone illuminated faded inscriptions on the stone walls. The voice, now clearer, echoed around him. "Sami... it's time..."

With trembling hands, Sami reached out and touched the cold stone. His fingers traced the intricate patterns, and as he did, he felt a sudden rush of memories—flashes of his sister, her laughter, the accident, the guilt. The weight of it all nearly overwhelmed him.

A sudden gust of wind slammed the door shut behind him. Sami jumped, his pulse quickening. He was trapped inside with whatever was causing these disturbances. He turned, trying to make sense of the darkness. A shadow moved at the edge of the light, and Sami's heart skipped a beat. He squinted, but the shadow vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Who's there?" Sami called out, his voice shaking. "What do you want from me?"

The air grew colder, and the whispers became a chorus, rising in a crescendo of despair and anger. Sami's hands shook as he tried to find a way out, his mind racing with the realization that the secrets of the cemetery were entwined with his own troubled past.