Hank wished he’d kept his mouth shut when Jordan started telling ghost stories about the old graveyard. The ghost stories Jordan had told at school were boring. Hank knew it, everyone in at the lunch table knew it, but Jordan wouldn’t shut up, all because it was Halloween.
“Dammit Jordan,” muttered Hank, as he hoisted himself over the old brick wall. He looked out over the acres of tall grass, dried weeds, and bleached stones.
The cemetery was almost the oldest thing in town. The original settlers had come through the ‘Gap and decided this valley was good enough for farming. They'd dug the first graves during the first winter. The graveyard had finally filled up around a century ago. The local Elks lodge used to mow it down once a year, but the Elks disbanded when so many businesses went under and left the old ground to the weeds. Now here he was, about to waste his whole Halloween night, waiting alone in the moonlight.
“A dare is a dare is a dare,” he said, and dropped off the wall down into the weeds. He brushed himself off and walked over to the nearest… what was it called, a mausoleum, a sepulcher, a crypt? He didn’t know, but it had walls, and leaning up against it would at least shelter him from the wind.
The clouds drifted above him. He pulled his phone out, framed himself against the whatever-it-was-called, and took a selfie so his friends (and Jordan) would know he was here. He sent it to the group, and put his phone back in his pocket. The rule was no texting, no phone calls, no Twitter or TikTok — he was forbidden from using his phone again until sunrise.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the sparse moonlight. He could see the street lights on the other side of the wall, but they didn’t seem to illuminate anything inside the walls. The only sound was the wind blowing through the dried grass. Even the birds avoided this place at night. The minutes dragged by until Hank pulled out his phone again to play a game.
“As long as nobody knows, who cares?” he said, and got busy moving the tiny hero along the path, blasting turtles and mushrooms. He was so engrossed he almost missed his phone telling him it was midnight.
Midnight, and dark. He looked up from his phone and blinked. The moon had set. Dark clouds covered the sky.
More clouds than before, he thought, looking up at where the moon had been. A chilling breeze whipped around his meager shelter.
“Crap, I hope it doesn’t rain,” he said.
“Me either,” said a female voice.
Hank yelped and rolled to the side, dropping his phone. He looked up to see a young girl in a light sweater and a long gingham skirt. She smiled at him.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, with a small giggle. “Let me guess — someone dared you to stay here all night?”
Hank got to his feet. “Yes,” he admitted. “Do I know you?”
She smiled. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I’m Marguerite, and my friends all teased me until I came here. Who are you?”
Hank said, “I’m Hank, and I have stupid friends, too,” prompting a laugh from Marguerite.
“Can I sit with you?” she said. “I was lonely. I decided to walk around, and I saw your phone.”
“Uh, sure,” said Hank. “Do you go to school around here? I don’t recognize you.”
“The school isn’t that big, is it?” she said. “My family just moved here. My father… he’s worried about the epidemic, I mean he’s hellaciously worried, so we moved to an out-of-the-way town. I'd never heard of it before we moved here!”
Hank said, “Nobody has.”
She looked around. “I like it here, though… well, not here here, but this town.” She half-hid her smile. “At least the boys are cute.”
Wow, thought Hank. This Halloween had just gotten better.
“The boys are cute? You’re putting that out there,” said Hank, “just to see what I’d do. You’re that kind of girl, am I right?”
She hung her head, then lifted her eyes to stare straight at him. She wore a half-smile. It didn’t match the intensity of her stare. “You don’t like my kind of girl?” she said.
Hank smiled back. “Now, I didn’t say that, did I?”
She giggled again. “My mother used to tell me to be more ladylike, but why bother anymore?”
“I think you’re ladylike enough,” said Hank, “and you’re prettier than a lot of the girls I know.”
“And you know a lot of girls?” she said. “Do you… have a girlfriend?”
Hank smiled. “If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have ended up being stuck in a graveyard all night,” he said. “Girlfriends are supposed to stop you from doing stupid things.”
“I thought boys did stupid things to impress girls,” she said. She leaned closer to him. “Isn’t that how it works? Boys spend all their money trying to earn their sweetheart a kewpie doll from the carnival?”
Hank frowned. “What’s a kewpie doll?”
Marguerite giggled again. “Whatever they call them here. I haven’t been to a carnival in a lifetime. Nobody ever won me anything.”
“There’s one that comes in the summertime,” said Hank. “I haven’t been since I was a little kid.” He grinned. “I don’t know if they have kewpie dolls. If you want, I could try to win something for you.”
“My hero,” she said, then shivered. “It’s getting cold.”
“I wish I’d brought a warm coat, too,” he said. “You can scoot over here, if you want.” He held out his arm.
She beamed. “I ended up with a handsome big six,” she said, “and I’m not even dolled up. Just my luck.”
She scooted over next to him and he pulled her close.
“You are cold!” he said.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be.”
“Next time we spend the night in a graveyard, we’ll bring warmer clothes,” he said.
“There’s a next time?” she said. “Whatever would we do if we came back?”
He pulled her closer. His entire side felt cold now, but he didn’t care. He was holding a beautiful girl. What did the cold matter?
He decided to take a chance.
“I wouldn’t mind kissing you next time,” he said.
Marguerite whispered, “Why wait until next time?”
The distance between them disappeared. Their lips met. Her hands held him from behind, keeping their heads connected. She smelled like dandelions and he tasted a hint of apple pie. It was amazing, until he realized his mouth hurt. It felt frozen.
He stopped the kiss, and touched his lips. They were cracked and raw, like he’d been out in the snow in the dead of winter. He broke her embrace and pulled back, but didn't dare to look away.
“It’s the Chill,” she said. Her eyes became bleary. He could see the tears forming. “It happens every time. I’m so sorry, Hank. I really like you, I do!”
“The Chill?” he stammered. His heart was racing, and did she look different now? His phone glowed on the ground where he’d been sitting, making her teardrops sparkle.
Marguerite nodded. “The ground gets so cold this time of year, and doesn't warm up even in summer,” she said. Her tears fell freely now. “My father was so worried about the flu that we came here, but it followed us, and I never got to do anything!”
“You’re…”
Hank couldn’t get the word out.
She smiled, a thin, weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Please don’t go,” she said. “Please, Hank.” She reached out for him.
Afterwards he couldn’t remember if he’d screamed or not. He rolled to his feet and ran for the wall.
“Hank!”
Her voice came from right behind him. He didn’t dare look back. He dodged gravestones, and tripped over dead vines. He kept running, finally reaching the wall. He jumped with all his strength and grabbed the top of the wall. He tried to pull himself up, he couldn’t. His foot was caught. He looked down and saw the beautiful girl he’d spent most of the night with, the desperate specter who was holding on to his foot with claw-like hands, begging, imploring him not to leave.
Her beauty had faded. Her clothing was streaked with dirt, and her face was dry and wrinkled, white like the moon had been before the clouds covered it.
“Please stay,” the apparition croaked. With all his strength, he pulled his foot free of her bony hands and pushed himself up and over the wall. He fell down to the sidewalk. He looked up and saw Marguerite’s face one more time. Her expression seemed to plead for him to stay. He took off running for his life, and didn’t stop until he was inside his house, in bed, with the covers pulled up over his head. He fell into a dreamless sleep.
He woke the next morning with the warm sun shining in his window.
“Did that really happen?” he said. He reached out to the nightstand to grab his phone, before he remembered he’d left it behind.
But his phone was sitting in its usual place. The screen showed a text message from an unknown number.
See you next year.