Ghoul

It was lonely.

It was angry.

And above all else, it was ravenous.

That hunger gnawed at the ghoul's empty belly, a cold, hollow craving that it had no means of satisfying.

Until two weeks ago, when it was finally freed.

Then it had made up for lost time, and at long last, satisfied its appetite. That night, after the sigil was accidentally broken, after the gravestone had cracked and fallen to the earth, it awoke fully and became aware. Aware of the human standing above it. The creature could smell himthe stink of his mansweat, the alcohol oozing from his pores, the fear in his heart, the anger in his head. The ghoul could smell it all, and more, smell the dead in the cemetery. The creature growled along with its stomach. The man's head was like a hive of enraged bees, and the ghoul could sense it. Above the grave, the man moved. Mumbled something angry and unintelligible, voice slurred by alcohol. Cursed the fallen tombstone, even though he' d been the one to knock it over. Lit a cigarette.

The ground shifted.

The ghoul surged toward the surface, cleaving the soil like a shark through water. Its long, bony fingers erupted from the earth. The filthy, curved talons on the tips of its fingers were cracked and peeling. Its arms thrust forward, white and cold. Its thick, fleshy hide was hard and greasy. The ghoul's hands curled around the startled man 's ankles, gripping him tight, holding him in place. Then the thing' s hairless, pointed head emerged from the rippling dirt like a pale, rotten, oversized gourd. Its yellow eyes bulged. Sharp teeth, blackened with decay in some spots, flashed in the moonlight, wicked incisors glinting beneath black, rubbery lips.

The man screamed, cigarette falling from his mouth. His cries echoed through the empty graveyard with no one else to hear them.

Laughing, the ghoul pulled itself from the grave and rose to its full height. It was completely naked, its body almost entirely devoid of hair except for a tangle between its legs and a few wayward strands along its body. The man was too frightened to flee. A wet stain spread across the crotch of his pants. A halfempty bottle of Wild Turkey slipped from his grasp and rolled across the wet grass. He trembled as the creature shook the dirt from its body. It was thin, almost emaciated. Its bones were visible beneath the hairless skin. The ghoul licked its lips, the tongue slithering across its face like a gray snake. Despite his terror, the man gagged and coughed, recoiling from the creature' s stench. It smelled like strong cheese, left out in the summer sun for too long. Pungent. Spoiled. Bad milk spilled inside a Jiffy John.

'Oh, Jesus… Somebody help! Help me!'

He backed away, his foot colliding with the bottle.

The creature hissed, its breath like a sewer.

'Help!'

The ghoul paused, studying the terrified man's dialect. Though it knew most of the languages of men, it had been some time since it had spoken them.

'What is your name, human?'

'Christ. It's a flashback. Agent Orange or something'

'Silence. I am no vision or dream.'

The man flinched. 'Yyou're real?'

'Of course I am real. Again, what is your name? What are you called?'

'CClark SSSmeltzer.'

'What are you doing here?'

'I'm the ccaretaker. I was drinking, and II was mad. Angry. I kicked the tombstone. I'm ssorry. Was it yours?'

The ghoul glanced down at the shattered fragments. The marker had cracked in half, the sigil cracking with it; thus, freedom.

The man's eyes grew wider. 'It wwas, wasn't it? Oh God…' The ghoul grinned. The caretaker began to sob.

'Puhplease…' Clark started coughing again.

'Please, what?'

'I'm sorry. Pplease don't kkill me…'

The ghoul's laughter was like a hissing steam kettle. 'Kill you? I am not going to kill you. I can see inside your mind. You will be useful.'

Clark nodded furiously. 'Yeah, that's right. II am useful. I can ffix your tombstone good as new.'

'You misunderstand. I am hungry.'

'Oh, shit…'

'You bury the dead?'

Clark nodded, recoiling from the ghoul's stench.

'Tell me, son of Adam. Have you ever seen the fruits of your labor? Have you ever viewed a corpse after it has ripened beneath the soil? Seen the earthworms and millipedes crawling over and through it? Smelled the aroma of grave mold, or warmed yourself in its luminous glow? Wallowed in the rich, fatty stew of decomposition?' Clark retched. 'No.'

The ghoul patted its stomach. 'It is a treat. My kind was not supposed to enjoy it. It was our curse, to eat the dead. But in timein time, we grew to relish it. Savor it.'

'Yyou eat dead people?'

'Yes, and you are going to feed me.'

Clark Smeltzer's bladder let go again, further soaking his pants. 'Bbut you said you weren't gonna kkill me!'

'I am not. I will allow you to live, so that you can continue to do your job. You will bury the dead, so that I can feed. You will also keep my existence a secret. For this, you will be richly rewarded. And there is something else you will do for me, as well. I require something else, in addition to sustenance. I am lonely.' Swallowing hard, Clark stared in horror, listening as the creature spoke. It talked for a long time, and when Clark returned home, it was almost morning. The ghoul returned to the grave, hiding beneath the soil, sheltering itself from the sun. Waiting. No longer imprisoned, but free to come and go under the shelter of darkness.

When it was night again, it began to dig. And to plan. First, it satisfied its hunger. That was an immediate need. It devoured the nearby dead, eating whatever flesh remained on the bones, and then the bones themselves, leaving nothing behind but whatever they 'd been buried injewelry and scraps of moldering clothing. Sated, the ghoul focused on fulfilling its longing for others of its kind a family. The caretaker was supposed to find it a mate, for its kind could mate with human females and had done so in the past. But the caretaker had not yet procured one. So when the boy and girl mated in the darkness, lying together on a blanket spread out between the tombstones, the ghoul had watched them from the shadows, and saw its chance. It had killed the boy, obeying the commandment and not partaking in the pumping blood or stillwarm flesh, and had taken the girl below. She was ripe and fertile. The creature could smell it on her. The ghoul wasted no time. Over the last two weeks it had created quite a den. The warren was centered in its original grave, but it had tunneled out in all directions, a spiraling labyrinth that grew larger and more complex. The girl was kept in the main chamber, in a nest the ghoul had built for her. It didn't have to worry about her fleeingher mind was too far gone for that, and even if she had been able to reason, she wouldn 't have been able to navigate the pitchblack maze of tunnels.

It ate every night. At first, it had feasted in the nearby older graves, devouring the few human remains still left after one hundred years of interment, and snacking at night on nearby road kill, left to rot in the sun along the roads that bordered that portion of the cemetery. Then it had branched forward, burrowing up the hill to where the new graves lay. There, night after night, it had eaten its fill, rooting through the graves of James Sawyer and George Stevens, Cathy Luckenbaugh and Damon Bouchard and Britney Rodgers, Raymond and Sally Burke, Stephen Clarke, and many others. The dead could not scream. This night was no different. Dane Graco' s corpse was devoured within ten hours of its interment. The ghoul was displeased at the chemicals in the body, embalming fluid and the like. It longed for the old days. But food was food, and it was hungry. The next day, after the Gracos had buried their dearly departed and tried to move on with their lives, Clark Smeltzer checked a preappointed spot and found a new collection of graft, including Dane Graco's Freemason ring. He started thinking again about all his