Mary tripped over a rock and just about hit the ground.  She staggered and caught herself on the nearest headstone.

What the hell was she doing here?  In the dark.  Alone.  In a damn graveyard?  She paused for a moment and thought.  She was going to meet him.  That’s right, she remembered now.

As she moved down the path, she looked around.  Creepy.  Crypts and headstones cast shadows across the landscape.  The full moon cast a glow that illuminated the night and the path that she walked on shown clearly. 

It must be the way. Didn’t he say he would meet her? He promised.

Trees, half empty of their colored blankets, rustled softly. She shivered as a cool breeze drifted across her skin. Chilled, she moved faster, hoping to warm up.  From the corner of her eye, movement caught her attention. The hair on her neck stood up as she quickly looked around and saw nothing.  Her heart thudded heavily against her ribs. She looked again.  There was nothing there. She took a deep breath.

Maybe she just imagined it. Its dark, there’s a lot of shadows; it’s hard to see in some places, even with the moon. Yes, it’s just her imagination.

Still a little tense, but somewhat reassured, she stared straight ahead and continued on.  Several times movement from her peripheral vision had her nerves stretching tight, but she ignored it.

It’s not real. She was almost there and she was not going to scare herself into turning back now.

The night grew darker as clouds began to cover the moon. Shadows crept closer as the light began to fail. The path that seemed so clear, began to dim.  She hurried as she felt her time grow short. She had to meet him, she just had too.

Rounding a corner, she stopped dead.  Lining the road on either side were statues of angels.  Some were bent in prayer, others with their arms lifted in praise.

They freaking moved. She watched as the ones closest to her slowly lift their heads and turn them towards her. Wings rustled and one by one, she saw them spread them wide.  If she wasn’t so scared, she would have thought this to be very beautiful. When the first one began to step from its pedestal, she ran.  Scratch beautiful. 

As she moved faster, the path became more difficult to see.  She was going to miss him. How would she meet him if she couldn’t find her way? 

Then she saw him. He stood on the path, waiting for her.  Relief filled her. When she was finally close enough, she threw herself into his arms and felt him hold her close.

Finally.

‘I’ve waited so long, and I’ve missed you so very much.” He whispered.

She pulled back and smiled at him. “Let’s go home, Jack.”

Their lips touched and they faded away.  The clouds moved and moonlight lit the headstones words. 

‘Jack Smythe April 1925-May 1995 and Mary Smythe September 1933-October 2008.’