My name? How on earth? Or more like what on earth?

Unsure if I had imagined it, I reached out to grab the weeds. The dark skies, howling winds, and hulking shadows from humongous trees made the setting for this discovery so very clichéd. Like a horror movie script that had gone overboard. Regardless, I couldn't help the constant pounding of my heart and my erratic breathing. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I tried steading my nerves. All that was achieved was the quick flash from several scenes where nasty things pounced on unsuspecting victims in the dark. As my fingers curled around the weeds, the slickness from the rain that coated each stem and leaf, felt unusually cold to my fingers and served to extract a shudder from me.

Shaking my head with hopes of dislodging eerie thoughts, I yanked. After the downpour of the century, it wasn't odd when the roots quietly released their clutch on their lifeline. Rising above ground with no resistance, they embraced their end with a certain grace and humility. Almost as if they had known all along that this very moment would be their last.

At that moment, I was grateful for the clouds. Shriveled from the downpour, they parted easily when the wind nudged them. A thin mist was all that was left. At that moment, the evening was no longer gloomy or frightening. It was exquisite. The mist stood dark against the paleness of the moon; like lace on a silk gown. The mist mystified and intensified; it glimmered and shone; transcending the magnificence of the star peppered night sky.

The inscription on the tombstone brought me back from my reverie with a jolt.

Sacred to the memory

Of

Gwen Wood

Who departed this life

On the 8th day of June 1871.

Aged 25 years and 7 months.

After about a second or so, I found myself physically shaking from the effort to control the hysterics that threatened to overtake me. I couldn't believe how silly I was being! So the person buried here shared the first name as me. How did I get from there to the conclusion that something supernatural was at play here?

Like really? Pssh!

I was still giggling when ominous clouds raced back overhead threatening to douse out the moon. Moments later, they crashed into each other releasing a deafening roar. As the wind picked up speed, my stringy wet hair whipped around my face; their tips harshly stinging my skin. As if daring me to continue mocking the evening's events, a bright flash lit up the sky, turning the earlier exquisiteness into something more stygian.

No matter how much I tried to fool myself into believing everything was all right, my nerves were still on edge. Even if I was neurotic, it was a response I just couldn't shake.

I sat back on my haunches and tried desperately to latch on to the tiniest fragments of common sense. Raising a hand, I wiped my wet hair from my eyes and looked around me with hopes of having developed a new – and less gothic – sense of awareness.

And then something struck me. No, it wasn't an object... just a thought. Squinting, I re-read the inscription on the tombstone. Perhaps I got the name wrong? After all the inscription was somewhat faded. How hard could it be to confuse one alphabet for another? Furrowing my eyebrows, I 'hmmm-ed' when I saw that I hadn't made a mistake.

How could this be? I thought back to the time JT shared rumors about the house's occupants and events with me. Didn't the woman living here disappear? Didn't I have a vision of the house catching fire? If she genuinely did disappear without a trace, whose body was buried here? Had there been another occupant? Surely the grave wasn't an empty box!

As I mulled over these questions, my eyes fell to my feet.

I wish they hadn't.

Because in the next instant, I was cursing and jumping back. Empty or not, I had been sitting right on top of the grave. Who does that? Where was my respect?

The backward jump was not a good idea either. Feet slipping and sliding, I ended up bottom first in a shallow pool of unidentifiable sludge. Sighing, I rested my head on my forearms. What else could go wrong tonight? How many more silly mistakes would I make?

The excitement from the night's events had substantially drained me and after having wallowed in ample self-pity and mental kicking for god knows how long, I decided it was time to make the trek back home. Putting my hands on the ground, I pushed myself to my feet. Turning towards the cemetery's exit-cum-entrance, I began my trek home.

Looking forward to a hot bath and a warm bed, I wasn't prepared for the next round of thunder and lightning.

This was getting to be much too much. Every time ... something... for lack of being able to give this phenomenon a rational descriptive word ... decided I wasn't moving in the direction it wanted me to step in, I found myself being chased by lightning and thunder. If this wasn't supernatural manipulation, what was?

Spooked enough for the night, I decided I wouldn't stay to find out. I urged my feet to hurry and soon, my cautious gait turned into a sprint.

For exactly 5 seconds.

My toe stubbed against something, and I lost my balance, crashing headfirst into more sludge. Groaning, I kicked myself mentally some more. Pulling myself to my knees, I sighed. This just wasn't my night.

Just then, for the briefest seconds, the moonlight broke through the achingly bulbous clouds and reached down with desperation, hoping to latch onto anything to avoid being pushed back into hiding. And at that moment, these pale fingers reflected off a metal object protruding from the ground and caught my attention. I tried kicking the object, half expecting it to be a nail or a coin. Worse case? Perhaps a buried can of beer or soda. But it wouldn't budge.

Curious, I ran my fingers over it and into the soil around it. When I felt more metal, I kept digging. The more I dug, the more metal I unearthed. The more I unearthed, the more curious I became. Minutes of digging later, I sat back and looked at the object. A 2-foot metal lid glared back at me. Rusted in corners, the hinges looked like they were sealed shut.

Wondering how deep the box was, I grabbed a broken branch, pulled off the leaves, and then stuck it down the side of the box. Having made a hole, I pushed my fingers through the loosened soil. I was down to my knuckles in the dirt, and the end of the box was nowhere near. Curiosity was getting the better of me, I got on my knees and dug furiously.

Ten minutes later, I sat back down. A box... I had unearthed a huge box! A metal box in an old cemetery. Given the eerie setting, I first thought I had unearned a grave. Perhaps this was a makeshift coffin with ashes and personal belongings? And then my mind went off on a tangent. Maybe this was buried treasure? I rolled my eyes at my stupidity.

Treasure? Really? Was that the best I could come up with?

Having had enough of the night, I decided whatever was in the box could wait for discovery till morning; when it was warm and safe and free of terrifying loneliness. I was headed home, and nothing could stop me – no more wind, rain, dark skies, thunder or lightning.

Getting on my haunches, I lifted the box and found myself surprised at its rather emptiness. It wasn't heavy at all! At least that removed chances of this being a grisly grave. I laughed at myself again.

It took a while and a lot of grunting and groaning on my part to make it uphill with the box. The slippery path, loose plants, darkness and of course, the fact that I couldn't use both my hands made the climb tedious and painstakingly slow.

Once home, I gently laid the box by the door and headed to the bathroom. Whatever mess I was making on my squeaky clean floors could also wait till morning. Exhausted, sore from all the bashing I had taken and cold to the bone, my mind focused on only one thing... a tub of hot water with bubbles... lots and lots of bubbles!