The graveyard is blanketed in silence under the midnight sky, its worn tombstones jutting out of the ground like the half-buried skeleton of an ancient animal. Frost gathers on sparse grass, glittering with the light of the stars above, and a passing breeze, wintry and raw, whispers about the oncoming winter. A boy hovers near a sunken gravestone, tracing a shivering finger over the inscription on the rock.
The gravestone is cracked, eroded from countless years of wind and rain, with the inscription rendered smooth and faint - a shadow of what it used to be. The boy draws back his shaking hands from the cold stone, feeling just as lifeless as the body buried deep beneath him. He can no longer read the writing on the grave, but he knows what it says, and wishes that he could forget.
A cloud moves over the moon, and a heavy darkness falls over the graveyard. When the wind blows the clouds away and moonlight dapples the ground once more, the boy is gone, with the grave left standing alone in the night.