The Visitor

Note: This piece was inspired by a picture drawn by a friend of mine. Emmy, you inspired me. :P

The night watchman sighed, then stretched in his chair until he felt the muscles of his back pop pleasantly. He closed his eyes and yawned, his jaw cracking, then stood up and grabbed the flashlight from the desk. It was time to make the rounds and be sure that no kids were out amongst the graves. So far, he hadn't had any real trouble, but it never hurt to make sure.

He had just completed one circuit of the old cemetery when he noticed something seated on a gravestone not ten feet away from him. He gritted his teeth in annoyance and started forward, ready to give the interloper a piece of his mind. "Hey! The cemetery's closed, what do you think you're…" he trailed off, a screech of fear ripping from his throat as the flashlight's beam shone on a horrifying sight.

Seated directly in front of him on the tombstone as though it was a gilded throne was a skeletal, grinning, nightmarish specter in the tattered remains of a suit. Perched on its head was a hat with a long feather sticking out at a jaunty angle. Long, bat-like, leathery wings sprouted from its back and curved inwards, revealing sharp talons. The odor of worms and grave-rot was all around, and the moonlight cast the things misshapen shadow against the hoary ground.

The watchman stood frozen in fear, and then the creature lifted its head and stared directly at him, a leering mockery of a smile on its face and its eye sockets aglow with a cold blue light. It opened its mouth and screeched like a banshee before launching itself into the sky with a leathery rustle of wings.

The watch man had seen enough. He let out a scream that could be heard for miles around, then dropped the flashlight and ran back for the gatehouse as though the hounds of Hell were at his heels.

This was the last time he would ever work during Halloween.