Do ghosts help people? One saved me, and I relayed my experience to my younger twin sisters but they didn't believe me.
Life had not been kind to us—my sick mother, my sisters and me. The two jobs I worked at during the day weren't paying much. I needed more money to help my family and this was where Ron, one of my friends, came into the picture. He always had extra cash on him.
Ron talked about a side hustle that I could do for instant cash but it happened at night only. A friend of his friend introduced him to the business. If that business would get me the extra cash I needed, I didn't mind.
My friend explained how this hustle worked and a sense of unease stirred within me. Perhaps I would do it just this once.
It was a misty night. The weather was chillier than usual. I rubbed my palms together and blew into them to warm up. A glance at my grandfather's old wristwatch revealed Ron was late. It was past midnight. We'd agreed to meet by the gate leading to the cemetery.
The mist was heavy and spreading faster towards the cemetery, making me uncomfortable.
"Ron, where are you?" I whispered to myself and paced a little by the roadside. The sky was dark and blank—moonless and starless. The cold breeze swayed the wild plants by the side of the road as night crickets filled the air with rhythmic chirpings. My ears were accustomed to the chirping so odd footsteps behind caused me to spin like a flash. Nobody.
"It's an indecent hour to be out here alone," a gravelly voice said. My heart lurched. The hairs on my neck stood erect. My head felt unusually heavy. A very old man stood right in front of me. I was stunned and tongue-tied for a few minutes.
He was extremely old, wrinkled all over, frightfully thin and slightly stooped. His tunic hung loosely on his bony shoulders. He grinned, displaying rotted teeth. I swallowed. The thought of going back home dropped into my mind.
"You know what I am then. Some would have turned and run, screaming, saying incoherent things while some would faint, no matter whether they are men or ladies."
"Who-who are you?" I had to ask. My mind could be playing tricks on me. After all, he looked like an old man. And I was standing close to the cemetery at past midnight. The ghostly hour!
"Let's leave that for a moment. You're waiting for someone?" He asked.
I nodded vigorously. "My friend, sir. I'm waiting for my friend."
"Sure he's your friend? A real friend wouldn't lead you down this path."
I glanced around and glimpsed a group of people, about five or six of them in black robes, holding decorated bowls and burning candles in their hands. They marched in a single line into the cemetery.
My limbs had turned jelly and my hands were shaking. It was like my feet were stuck in the ground and I couldn't leave until I'd heard what the old man had to say.
"Uh, what path? He and I—"
"Are you attempting to lie to me?"
I clamped my mouth shut at that question. The old man nodded. "You know why those people are here?" I shook my head. I didn't trust my voice to say anything sensible.
He waved his hands at the grave headstones. "This place is filled with treasures, that's why."
"Treasures? They are all dead."
"Respect, boy!" He whispered harshly. I shut my trap again. "They may be dead but they've done so with their treasures. Those people," he pointed a crooked finger in the direction of the people in black robes, "are here to take the treasures just as you and your friend want to do the same—"
"No, no. My friend and I don't do this…uh, what those people are doing."
"You think you're better? They ask the permission of the dead, and possibly that of the cemetery caretakers. You and your friends don't. But you all take treasures that are not yours."
My conscience bit down on me like it had canine teeth. I'd never felt more terrible and sad in my life. The old man oddly stared at me, his head angled to a side as his dark eyes gauged me.
"I've never done this before. Ron told me we could sell whatever we took from the graves and no one would know. I need the money to take care of my family," I babbled, looking down at the ground.
"If you had been caught, which you would have been if I'd not shown up, things would have been worse for you. How does that help your family?"
"I promise never to do this again. I-I'll just go now," I said, impliedly asking for permission to leave. I sensed I couldn't leave without the old man's say-so.
"Boy." His voice had softened a bit. I looked at him. "A little patience is all you need. And some hard work."
"Yes sir."
I glanced at the people in black robes. They had formed a circle around a grave, chanting. The air was heavy and ominous as they kept at it. I walked away from the cemetery quickly.
"Oh, and don't bother telling anyone about our little talk. They won't believe you." His voice echoed eerily behind me. My teeth clashed against each other as I broke into a run all the way home.
In the morning, Samir, my friend, stopped by my workshop to let me know Ron was in jail awaiting his bail hearing. He was caught by the cops that night robbing the graves.
The old man was right. If I'd told Samir about the strange meeting with a man I think was a ghost, no one would believe me.