My Undead Tormentor

Midnight Shift at the Graveyard

The morning sunlight filtered through the slats in Lena’s blinds, coaxing her awake. She rolled over, groaning as her alarm blared on her phone. Another day, another job hunt. She knew the routine all too well: apply, wait, get rejected—or worse, get ghosted entirely.

After forcing herself out of bed, she threw on her comfiest hoodie and slumped at her small desk, laptop open and ready. She’d already sent in dozens of applications, but today she was determined to keep trying. Maybe today would be different, she told herself, thinking back to yesterday’s conversation with Alex, her overly optimistic friend. His words echoed in her head: “Just keep going, Lena. You’ll find something. It just takes patience.”

An hour later, Lena’s email inbox was filled with the same coldly polite responses: Thank you for your application. Unfortunately, we have decided to move forward with other candidates. She sighed, closing her laptop with a little too much force. Her phone buzzed on the desk—a notification reminding her that her mobile data was about to expire. Perfect. As if she needed another reminder of how tight money had gotten. Everything was adding up, and without a job, the pressure was suffocating.

Frustrated and exhausted, she slipped into her joggers and headed out for a run. She wasn’t much of a runner, but anything that could help clear her head sounded appealing right now.

The brisk morning air filled her lungs, and with each step, she tried to shake off the heaviness clinging to her. But even as she pushed herself, she couldn’t escape the nagging thought of all the rejection emails piling up. She hadn’t been running long before the thirst hit her, and she veered toward a familiar street corner, catching sight of her friend’s coffee shop. It had become a kind of refuge over the past few weeks, her friend occasionally sneaking her a free cup of coffee when Lena’s budget was stretched too thin.

When she stepped inside, the smell of fresh espresso wrapped around her like a warm hug. Her friend waved from behind the counter, flashing her a quick smile. “Hey, Lena! Tough morning?”

“You have no idea,” Lena sighed, sinking into a corner seat by the window. Her friend slipped her a steaming cup of coffee a few moments later with a wink. Lena murmured her thanks, cradling the cup between her hands for warmth and comfort. She gazed out the window, watching the world rush by, everyone looking so

busy, so purposeful. Why did it feel like everyone but her had it all figured out?

She pulled out her phone, scrolling through social media with a mindless swipe. Happy faces, vacation photos, new job announcements—it was like salt in the wound. She was just about to close the app and bury herself in her coffee when an ad caught her eye.

It looked different from the others. The text was simple but…odd.

Wanted: Graveyard Cleaner and Companion for the Dead.

Lena raised an eyebrow. Companion for the dead? She clicked on the ad, curiosity piqued. The description was brief, almost vague: a night job, cleaning and maintaining the grounds of Hollow Brook Cemetery, with no experience But what caught her attention was the pay. Her eyes widened as she saw the numbers—more than enough to cover a month’s rent and maybe even a little extra.

Lena's mind buzzes as she re-reads the ad, her gaze glued to the numbers as if afraid they'd disappear. A night’s work. Just one night. It was almost too good to be true, but the wording of the job—a “companion for the dead”—stirred something unsettling in her. She hadn’t ever been the superstitious type, but there was something oddly personal about the ad, as if it were waiting just for her to find it.

Her phone was dangerously low on battery, but she quickly saved the number in her notes. She sipped her coffee absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting back to the endless, polite rejections she'd been getting from other employers. Maybe a strange job was exactly what she needed. Worst case, she thought, it’d make for a bizarre story to tell her friends later.