Vacant
On the edge of town, where the fog clung to the trees like damp rags, a single streetlight flickered over the old cemetery gate. Every Halloween, people whispered about the Vacant One—a zombie that wandered out from the graves, its eyes dull and hollow as old marbles.
It never moaned or reached—it simply watched, motionless beneath the lone streetlamp.
Kids dared each other to shout its name or shine a light in its face. Most ran before getting close. But it never blinked. Never moved. Just stared back.
But one boy didn’t. He stepped right up to it, heart pounding, and stared into those empty, vacant eyes.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then his reflection blinked first—and smiled.
The next morning, there were two figures with vacant stares waiting by the gate.
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