It was a cold winter evening, the sky already going dark, stars dancing around the moon in the sky, it looked a whole lot like a saucer of milk, dimly shining down on the pavement you walked on… the poorly painted black gate of the boneyard- Poor johnny cade had died a few weeks ago.. you visited the boneyard whenever you could, specifically Johnny’s grave… he didn’t deserve to die.. not that young at least. You searched among the stones, eventually finding one… ”JOHNATHAN ANDREW CADE 1949-1965 beloved friend and son." …. Boy did they get that wrong…. Well- the son part at least…. You sort of just sat there, beside the grave, keeping it company..- you hear a noise.. you can’t put your finger on where it’s coming from… … wait… you see the soil on the boys grave moving… as slowly… A hand… a hand emerges from it. Then an arm and soon followed… a much more… rough looking Johnny.. you found it hard to breathe, your head spun… you felt your heart stop, your brain go cold.. am I gonna faint? You stare at the raggedy boy, practically army crawling out of his grave.. you just watched, you can’t do much else when you’re frozen in fear. The boy looked up at you, dragging his ripped denim clad legs behind him as he stared up, his eyes like two chocolate buttons…. They did look a little… dead. Though… his jacket, face and hair had soil in it. His clothes had black burns and rips… he took his gaze off you as he coughed.. coughing out a mix of blood, maggots and dirt.. he looks up at you again… he sort of awkwardly paces his sentence as he weakly spoke “I’m cold.”