Across The Road And Into The Trees

Across from the house, to the right, there is a cemetery.
Every morning, I open the curtains and look out at it. Often you can see the sun shining back through the oak and chestnut trees.
As far as neighbours go, the residents are pretty quiet. They don't make any fuss, not anymore, all sound and fury spent.
The other day, a new one arrived. I watched as a small crowd gather, huddle, then disperse. One last person lingered, then turned his collar up and pulled his hat down and walked slowly away.
Every night, I close my curtains looking out across the darkness, checking for any movement in the shadows. Just in case. Zombies and vampires and mummies and all that.

And one day, hopefully not too soon, I may be looking back the other way.