Knock, Knock...

A spectral mist rose from the secluded cemetery as Homer and Ducor paused in the rural countryside, seeking a resting place for the night.

           “Ah, now this looks like a good spot for our evening siesta,” Homer declared. “Clearly we’re not the first people to think so.”

Ducor looked doubtful. 

“Yes,” Ducor responded, “but the people doing the ‘resting’ were not really in a decisive mode. More like trees being planted aren’t really in charge of site selection.”

“Nonsense!” Homer responded. “Cemeteries are carefully chosen locations, not random dumping sites. I think the town fathers selected this tranquil spot for a variety of reasons, which happily, also suit our needs: seclusion, quiet, a sweeping hillside view…” Homer swept his arm dramatically across the wide expanse of the graveyard.

“Not much of a view for the residents,” Ducor mumbled quietly, “being as how they’re all resting underground.”   

“Plenty of trees, a secure, wrought iron fence to keep out the riffraff,” Homer continued. “I should think this will serve our needs quite nicely.”

“You mean riffraff, like us?” mused Ducor. He’d heard plenty of law enforcement officers refer to the two homeless men in this manner over the years.

“Do not confuse our free-spirited, rootless, adventurous status with the dregs of society, dear boy,” Homer huffed indignantly. “We are sojourners of the knights-errant class; gypsy moths, adrift on the wind of Mother Nature, free from the constraints of common society.”  

“Because we don’t have jobs?” Ducor asked. 

“No, because we are unfettered from the bonds that tie down the average man to menial careers and humdrum routines. Remember, a lifetime rut may eventually transform into a grave,” Homer remarked, pleased with his noble assessment of their wanderings.

“Which, of course, leads us to this otherworldly campsite you’ve selected,” Ducor responded. “May I remind you, Homer, that not only is this a haven separating the dead from the living, but it is also Halloween?” Ducor shivered. “On any other night, your arguments may have merit, but tonight?”

“Were you having thoughts of trick-or-treating, my dear Ducor? A bit long in the tooth for that sort of thing, aren’t you?”

“Actually, I was having thoughts of the spirits of the dead. Ghosts, goblins, witches, ghouls, you know, the things that go bump in the night, the monster under the bed, that sort of thing. “

“Oh, come now, Ducor. There are no such things as ghosts. Superstitions we believe in childhood, nothing more.”

Ducor’s eyes darted about nervously, clearly not convinced.

“All right, then. I’ll rest on this long tombstone here, if that will make you feel safer. If you see a ghost, call me.” Homer set his small pack under his head for a pillow and curled up inside his coat. 

“But what if the ghost sneaks up while we’re sleeping, Homer? Or zombies, what then?”

“Zombies, Ducor! For crying out loud. Why zombies?”

“Because they eat people, Homer. And I hear they are particularly fond of brains.”

“Then you should have nothing to worry about. Just go to sleep, Ducor. I’m right here.” Homer adjusted his makeshift pillow and soon was fast asleep.

Ducor looked around at the tombstones in the fading light. This was an older part of the cemetery, he thought. Some of the gravestones had settled into the earth and now tilted at various angles. Their haphazard leanings gave Ducor the impression of a set of bad teeth. Some had sunk so far into the damp earth that their inscriptions were nearly obscured.

The stars gradually winked out as storm clouds gathered. The moon disappeared finally and there was pitch blackness all about. The wind picked up and dry leaves skittered across the ground scraping against the tombstones.

Ducor lay down in the grass feeling about him for Homer’s sleeping form. Reassured by his friend’s presence, he stretched out, peering into the inky black above. As the wind increased,  he began to concentrate on the sounds around him.

The iron gate of the cemetery now began to creak, the metallic clink of the latch tapping out a high-pitched tattoo.

“Homer, do you hear that?” Ducor whispered. “It’s just the gate creaking, right?”

A low rumbling snore was the response, punctuated by an occasional mild expulsion of breath.

“Fine, just snore away, Professor. I’ll just lay here keeping the spirits of the dead at bay. I mean what could we expect anyway, ghosts, zombies…”

Suddenly from the adjoining woods came a loud staccato knocking. Ducor sat bolt upright and peered into the darkness, to where he thought the sound had come from. He could see nothing. He cupped his hands around his ears as if this might help focus on the sound. Then the knocking sound stopped, as quickly as it started. He lay back down and closed his eyes wondering what a ghost might sound like wandering through the graveyard. Of course, he’d never actually seen a ghost but now he contemplated how he would know if one came upon them in the dark.

Ducor awoke with a start, unaware that he’d fallen asleep despite his fears. The steady wind rustled the remaining leaves in the trees, while those in the breeze whirled and flitted about him in an airborne ballet. Then he heard what sounded like the gentle flapping of wings somewhere nearby.

“Who…who’s there,” stammered Ducor.

“Whoo, whoo,” came a reply.

“Yes, who?” Ducor repeated.

“Whoo, whoo,” the call sounded again.

“Who? Who are you,” Ducor called out timidly.

“Whoo, whoo.”

“Homer is that you?” Ducor called out.

“What?” muttered Homer, stirring slowly from his slumbers.

“Not what,” said Ducor, “Who?”

“Whoo, whoo,” came the call.

“Who?” asked Homer, stirring.

“Yes, WHO?” Ducor cried out. “Who?!”

“Whoo, whoo,” came the call.

“Quit mocking me, ghost!” Ducor screamed.

Homer reached out in the dark to reassure his friend. His hand brushed Ducor’s face.

Ducor let out a terrified cry and bolted, crashing headfirst into a nearby oak tree. Ducor fell unconscious to the ground.

“Ducor, are you all right?” Homer called out.

“Whoo, whoo.”

“YOU, you fool! Are you all right?” Homer cried out. But his question was met with silence, lost in the wind and blackness, on this dark and eerie Halloween night.