The hoarse winds whispered screams of terror, weaving through the heartfelt memories of those who were gone. Vivid autumn leaves rustled across the dirt, adding an abrupt dash of color to the barren plain that just didn’t seem to fit. Briskly, bitterly, the temperature fluctuated between 5 degrees and -20 degrees Fahrenheit. The sun’s rays feebly broke through the lighter layers of clouds, casting the gentlest glow among the epitaphs. A high-pitched creak vociferated from the depths of the graves as if the peoples’ apparitions were back to haunt. And they were mad.

A tiny pup trotted along the forgiving asphalt road-the only comfort for the critter who lost everything; his family of 7, his home in a snug cushion by the fireplace, his friends, his health. He simply woke up one September morning and found his beloved master and precious siblings to be still. Now it was mid-November and he was in desperate need of food, water, courage, hope and determination. His eyes skimmed over the tombstones scouring for a familiar symbol or marking that looked similar to his master’s name. The name was eternally engrained within his brain. “Eric Mener” was his identification. As the ample amount of dehydrated grass and weeds crunched beneath his padded paws, the pup’s stomach roared, frightening himself and causing him to cower.

He laid down to rest for a short moment when suddenly, he saw it----a weather-beaten rock. But it wasn’t any ordinary rock. This rock was used to mark the burial site of the pup’s master-he was sure of it. The pup trotted over ever so softly, yet eagerly, for he had barely any strength left. He treaded in a circle—once, twice-and finally settled down and closed his eyes. He had come to make his master’s grave his new home, for he knew that wherever his master was, his presence would bestow upon him the hope he needed to willfully continue living. He also knew that he didn’t have much time left before he joined his master in the heavens. The pup’s mind slipped away into a peaceful, dreamless world of unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, the apparitions that had arisen earlier floated over to the sleeping critter. They chuckled manically, discordantly, and outdrew what was supposed to be a hand. The silvery sliver of smoke quivered in midair, unaffected by the brutal winds. All three ghosts simultaneously withdrew the burdened soul of the dog. They seeped back into their graves, the facets of their shallow faces filled with wanton contempt. The dog’s entire body went limp content in knowing that he was laying on the same burial site as his master. The epitaph read “Eric Mentor”….