Grave
It was raining; pouring, really. The skies were cascading water upon the land below, upon hundreds and hundreds of graves. The graveyard was completely abandoned as the rain relentlessly beat upon the ground, seemingly cleansing the sins of the dead buried beneath.
Yet one umbrella was forced to endure this as its owner held it above his head. From afar, its owner looked normal enough, likely holding a source of light near to his face. He was simply standing there, looking at the grave in front of him; a grave that the found to be oddly well kept, because as far as he knew, no one had ever visited it.
The headstone itself was a simply one—the only thing indicating that there was someone buried there was "R.I.P;" Rest In Peace. There was no name, no death date—nothing. The man still remained, however, staring fixedly at the grave. He was trying to remember; remember what though, he didn't know.
He remained there for some time, not paying attention to time or surrounding until his umbrella started to give away to the torrent of rain. A single drop on his head was all what took to bring him out of his reverie and back to the real world. A few more drops made him give way to the forces of nature, and he started his trek home—home being where he now lived with an over-energetic twenty-four year old whose hobby was to dabble in the occult. A home where life now included chasing after vampires and pixie coats. A home where their closest friend and ally was a newly initiated vampire whose sire was on a most wanted list. A home where the 'family' physician was a psychopath addicted to a sort of black magic.
…A home where there was plenty of blood, bruises, friendship, laughter, secrets, and one thousand paper cranes scattered across the floor.
And this, to him, was the best kind of home he could hope for.