For the last 30 years, I have been paid to guard a single gravestone

I’ve been doing this for over thirty years. Thirty years of just sitting and staring at a gravestone. I don’t even know who the thing belongs to. 

You best believe I tried to find out, though. I have scanned every pockmarked surface of that stone slab over the years. It’s so weathered that the only part of the deceased’s name I can make out is a ‘B’ and an ‘R’. Not much to go off of. 

I do know that the guy (or gal) died in 1872. That’s it. Just a death date. 

I don’t even know who my employer is. The opportunity fell in my lap in the most literal sense of the phrase. 

I was thirty-two at the time. I had just been dumped by the love of my life, and my career in journalism wasn’t panning out how I’d hoped. 

I was feeling particularly down the night that it happened. I got sloppy drunk and wrote the most poorly composed article known to man – run-on sentences, punctuation mistakes out the wazoo, grammatical errors that would put a preschooler to shame. It was a true abomination. 

At some point in my mad typing frenzy I must have dozed off. Because I awoke the next day to find that I had fallen asleep at my desk. In my drunken haze I had managed to knock a few papers into my lap. It was then that I noticed the letter. 

The stark white envelope bore a wax seal. I instantly knew that it hadn’t been there before. 

I retrieved my letter opener and tore at the envelope. In my groggy state I had yet to make the connection. I lived alone… So how had the letter found its way to my lap? 

I let the envelope fall to the floor as I read the contents within.

Dear Mr. Calloway, 

We are contacting you with an employment opportunity. We have been observing you for some time, and we have come to the conclusion that you are a perfect fit for the position. 

As for the job itself, you will be required to guard a grave at Blackstone Cemetery from sundown to sunup Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday nights should you accept. You are to contact us immediately if you experience anything out of the ordinary. 

We hope to hear from you soon,

Your Benefactors

At the bottom of the letter was a phone number along with my salary should I accept the offer. Even working just four days out of the week, it blew my journalism gig out of the water. 

Of course, I took the whole thing with a grain of salt. I had likely received the letter as a prank and forgotten that I had it. Or maybe it was a strange writing assignment from a teenager. 

But it had been addressed to me… 

Whatever the case, I chose to give the number a call. What could it hurt? 

They picked up immediately after I dialed the number. 

I heard nothing but static and shallow breathing from the other end of the line. I only uttered two words before they hung up. 

“I accept.” 

I didn’t expect to hear back. I really didn’t. I thought I’d been duped. Had for a fool. 

But then the second letter came. 

Dear Mr. Calloway, 

We are overjoyed to welcome you to the team! Your first shift will be tomorrow night. Come prepared with a flashlight, a jacket, and some reading material. 

Best of luck,

Your Benefactors

A map of the cemetery fell out of the envelope. One grave in particular was marked with a heavy red X. 

Though I was skeptical, I decided to humor them. What did they have to gain from this anyway? 

With that in mind, I showed up to the cemetery just before sunset. I found my way to the designated grave with relative ease – Blackstone isn’t very big, after all. 

I stared at the stone inscription, no clearer then than it is now, before I plopped down and opened my book to read. 

Once I had made it past the first night, I thought that I had certainly just wasted my time. But to my utter disbelief, when I arrived home, my first day’s pay was waiting for me on the kitchen counter. 

I should have been more afraid. Someone had access to my home. They had intruded on my property multiple times and according to the letter, they had been watching me – but I wasn’t. I was content as long as the money kept coming in. 

Fast forward thirty years, and here I am. I was happy with the job. Strange though it was, the graveyard became a sort of safe haven for me. A comfort zone. The worst I had to deal with was the occasional gang of edgy teenagers. Aside from that, the nights were serene. 

Until last night. What happened has me questioning everything I know about reality itself. 

I was sitting before the grave as per usual, nose deep in a mystery novel, when it happened. 

The ground below me began to shift. 

It leapt up, fearing an earthquake. But as I surveyed my surroundings, I came to realize that only the earth at my feet was disturbed. 

I watch the dirt, mesmerized, unable to take my eyes away. The ground continued to rumble until finally something burst from within its depths. 

A rotting, skeletal hand shot from the earth. It didn’t grasp aimlessly. It knew what it wanted. 

The hand lunged for me, its decaying fingers clasping my ankle. 

I released a terrified shriek as it pulled down with frightening strength. I kicked at the hand with my free leg, terror surging through my veins. When it finally released me, I realized that I was bleeding. 

Frantic, I backed up and did the only thing I’d been trained to do – I called my employer. 

They picked up immediately. 

“Th-the grave. Whoever’s buried there, they… they’ve awakened.” 

For the first time, I heard my benefactor’s voice. It was deeper than that of any human I have encountered. It uttered a single word – 

Run. 

I shambled off as quickly as my legs would carry me. Between my age and the damage to my ankle, it was slow going, but eventually I made it to my car and put my foot on the gas. 

Once I arrived home, heart still threatening to leap from my chest, I was greeted by an envelope. I tore it open without hesitation. I frowned as I read the letter’s contents. 

Dear Mr. Calloway, 

We regret to inform you that we no longer require your services. Your severance package will be delivered at a later date with an additional lump sum for the injury you sustained on site. 

Thank you for your understanding, 

Your Benefactors