...As the moon in its fullest form rose to the centre of the sky it beamed like a beacon from a lighthouse for the dead, guiding each spirit back home.

...the cemetery was deafening tonight, not even the sound of the oncoming traffic from the main road a few metres to the east could be heard. The night sky was a black canvas punctured with holes the size of needles, with the other side promising a new day.

The wind drifted gently through my hair and rested on my shoulder. “Welcome home” it seemed to whisper. The familiar breeze was gentler this evening, yet colder than the evening before, and as it frolicked on my back, a chill travelled down my spine. Like the calm before a storm the silence in...