The gravel under your feet shifts a bit as you walk slowly down the path. Behind you, there's a rather loud couple with a big camera. Clearly, they had the same thought about beating the traffic around the scenic loop. You see signs all along the pathway, asking you not to touch the graves or walk through the grass out of respect for those who are buried there.

Slowly, you read the stones that are still legible as you walk past. 'Russell Gregory ~ Murdered by NC Rebels', 'Sprinkles ~ Beloved granddaughter of Hay and Mills', 'Mary 'Polly' Shields ~ Daughter of John Oliver', 'Annabelle Grigory ~ Beloved Mother'.

You pause in front of the headstone. It stands in the shade of a pretty tree, fresh flowers over the grave and a dove carved above her name. Could it be? As if in response to your question, the sky turns dark. A cloud has passed over the sun, and you glance up to make sure it's not going to rain. When you look back to the grave, there's an older woman standing in front of you, on the other side of the chain that separates the graves from the tourists.

She looks over her shoulder at you, and her eyes meet yours. They are a familiar brown. She lifts a hand and beckons you to come closer.

You hesitate a moment, knowing that you really shouldn't cross over the chain. At the same time, she could be exactly who you came all this way to see. You lift a leg and climb carefully over the chain, doing your absolute best to avoid stepping on any of the graves. When you're closer, you can feel the temperature drop about ten degrees.

The old woman smiles at you, and this close to her, you realize you can see right through her to the tree that casts shade over the grave. You hug your arms, cold and unsure. "Annabelle?"

She smiles a little wider, and nods, but she doesn't speak. Instead, she reaches under her dress neckline and pulls out a very old looking chain. She pulls it over her head and offers it out to you. You'd have to step forward to take it from her, because she makes no indication that she will come to meet you.

With a deep breath, you take that step and hold out your hand, palm up. She drops an old locket into your palm, and the metal is cold to the touch, making you shiver.

By the time you look back up from the locket, she's gone. With your hand held tight over the locket, you make your way back to the car... and back to Luke.

[Go to chapter: Thirty Three]