Under the watchful gaze of the full moon, the cemetery was a place of eerie stillness, where the dead rested in their eternal slumber. But tonight, the peace was shattered by the sound of shovels piercing the cold earth.
Harlan, the gravedigger, was no stranger to the dead. He had spent years tending to the graves, his only companions the whispers of the wind and the hoot of distant owls. But Harlan was not just a gravedigger. He had a secret, one that kept him working long after the sun had set.
He was searching for something—or rather, someone.
For months, Harlan had been plagued by visions of a woman, her face as pale as the marble tombstones, her eyes wide with fear. He didn't know who she was, but he knew she was trapped, buried alive beneath the heavy soil. The visions became more vivid each night, until Harlan could no longer ignore them.
And so, he dug.