Hello, my almost dead lover

It was ironic how little parents cared for their children's safety on such a night. Halloween was about dressing up as a dangerous monster they saw on TV, going up to strangers and asking for candy. They'd been taught to avoid this exact scenario all their lives, yet Halloween was an exception.

Stupid, really. Even if I were at my home, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of buying anything for stupid infants in the first place. I'd have just turned my lights out, grabbed a bottle of Smirnoff, and spent the evening watching shitty romcoms by myself.

No different from any other night.
However, tonight was an exception for me, too.

It was the one night I got to be with Tord again. At least, in some form.

So, instead of being huddled up in his old, red hoodie, drinking my problems away and waiting for the days to go by, I was sitting in a cemetery, in front of a grave.

It was simple and grey. A slab of stone. Some words etched into it, the name 'Tord Lawson' being more legible than any other part. I always made sure to dust it off every one in a while,  keeping it clean and looking as new as possible. Of course, nature played its part in trying to ruin the what I had set out to protect.

Things were quiet, as they always were. I'd tried growing used to the uneasy feeling of being watched that the graveyard always provided, yet going through this ritual three times didn't seem to lessen my nervousness. It was a small price to pay for the outcome of this evening, even if it was just an hour of being reunited with my lover again.

Bringing my arm up, I checked my watch, lips pressing together as I saw I had another ten minutes to wait.

It was a chilly night, I'd come prepared with the red hoodie Tord had left behind. In all honesty, I rarely took it off. He used to love this thing, even told me before how he'd wanted to be buried in it. But, according to him, it looked better on me.

Probably because I wasn't covered in blood, but we both knew I needed to keep it. Otherwise, I probably would've joined Tord.
Every year, it became harder not to do so.

A strong gust of wind blew past, leaves flying with it, coming down to circle around the lonesome grave. I stood up, standing back to witness what was going on. The clock had struck midnight, and countless leaves circled Tord's grave, going by too quickly for me to keep track of them.

I covered my ears, crouching down even further away, careful not to get sucked into the small tornado. It was loud, pressure seeming to press painfully against my ears.

Though, as always, it was over in less than a minute. The leaves fell to the ground, the wind moved past, and the grave was left open.

Silence inevitably crept in, my hands taken from my ears as I stared at the hole in front of the stone.

Pitch black, I couldn't see anything from back here. So, I slowly moved closer..

Until an arm shot up out of the hole, gripping the grass and dirt on the ground, pulling itself up. Even through the darkness, I could see a dark green colour imprinted on the arm, holes ripped into the jacket covering the arm.

A grunt rang through the silence, the arm seemingly struggling to pull the rest of his body up. Though, once the tips of Tord's hair came into sight, I sprung into action.

Running towards the grave, I latched onto the arm, pulling Tord's body upwards until he was able to crawl out himself.

I stood in front of the body on the ground, Tord on his hands and knees, as if he were trying to regain his strength. Slowly, he brought one foot forwards, pushing himself off the ground to shakily stand up.