Introduction
John never understood people's fear of graveyards. The dead stay dead, as far as he was concerned, so there were no threats in that regard. And everyone seemed to keep away from them as well, so James thought they were the safest place to sleep when you didn't have a house. And on warm nights it felt nice too. To feel nothing except the cool breeze on your face always sent him into a deep sleep. Usually though, there weren't any other people around. Maybe a caretaker now and then, which meant John had to hide in a tree until he left. But this man, he was different. John had hid in a tree as soon as he saw the man over a grave, with a torch in one hand and a shovel in the other, but on closer inspection, John was sure he wasn't a caretaker. For one thing, caretakers tended to have dull, dirty clothes. This man's clothing couldn't be called dull. In fact, anything about this man couldn't be called dull.
His clothes, for starters. A patchwork cloak, over a white shirt with white-speckled blue cravat, and yellow and blue striped pair of trousers. The clothes alone made it quite clear to John that this man was no grave robber. Although John had never seen a grave robber, he presumed they needed to be well hidden to do their business. If this man was a grave robber, people a half mile away would have seen him by now. There was the man's face which also was entirely unlike a caretakers. The caretakers tended to have clouded, soulless eyes, showing their clear disdain for the job. This man, with his curly orange hair, and piercing eyes, had anything but disdain. His image projected hope, telling John there was somewhere out there where he could succeed, and get off the street.
And, there was the fact the man appeared to be talking to himself. That was quite different from the caretakers as well.
"I'm not happy to do this," the man said, "I hope you know this"
He seemed to be angry at someone. John tried to get closer, but tree branch would only extend so far. Even with his vision obscured, John was sure there was no one else around. Suddenly the man pointed to his invisible enemy, "No! You may try and convince me that you gave him a choice, but it won't work. You manipulated him, like you manipulated all of us"
Whatever the man was hearing, he wasn't liking it, as he threw the shovel on the ground in anger. The man stalked menacingly forward, hunched over in rage.
"I don't care about the greater good! Can't you see the human effect of your actions? You virtually killed a man for your own selfish reasons"
The man was quiet for some time, as if listening to something. "Let me see him," the man said, finally, "Let me see him, or I promise I will not pick up that shovel again, and damn the consequences"
John suddenly saw something out of the corner of his eye, and felt ill. Something in his body told him to get out, but his logical brain argued against that. All he saw was a dark-robed figure, and it was probably just his eyes playing tricks on him. He was determined to find out who this mysterious stranger was.
But not for too much longer. After listening, the stranger said "If you're sure," and picked up a shovel to begin digging into the grave. The urge to flee took over. Whatever was going on, John didn't want to risk a police visit and a charge of vagrancy over it. So, hoping that he didn't make much noise, he quickly got out of the tree and ran as far as he could from the grave robbers. He would never find out the truth of what happened that night.