The Man In Black (1)

Up until I was 12 years old, my family lived on a street across from a field and a graveyard. The field ran the entire block, and was lined with a row of very large pine trees, which separated the houses on our side of the street, from the graveyard.

My friends and I used to play in the field, and in the winter we would build snow forts to climb around in. Occasionally we'd go into the graveyard, because there were always large snowdrifts to run around on.

When I was 11, we had a particularly heavy snowstorm, and then it had sleeted immediately after. My mom didn't want us to go outside because of the sub-zero temperature, but my friend, Michelle, and I were adamant about getting out of the house, after being cooped up in our houses for two days due to the storm.

We decided to go exploring in the snowdrifts after the sleet had finally stopped. Although the temperature had plummeted again, we bundled up, and headed outdoors.

It wasn't easy going, because every step we took we sank up to our knees in the heavily crusted snow. We plodded on though, eager to see just how high the drifts had gotten in the graveyard, thinking that they were probably 8 feet tall or higher. Ignoring the searing wind, we trudged into the graveyard.

The snow was smooth and there were no tracks visible, animal or otherwise. It was a breathtaking sight, as the sun glistened off the sparkling snow. We stopped to catch our breath, when all of a sudden, Michelle grabbed my arm and pointed. Startled by her sudden movement, I fought to regain my balance, as I let my gaze wander to where she had indicated. My breath caught in my throat. Stifling a scream, I grabbed Michelle, and began trying to run. We weren't actually able to run because or the depth of the ice crusted snow, but we did our best to hightail it out of there as fast as our panicked bodies would allow. Neither of us looked back, until we were safely across the street, standing in my driveway. Michelle went home shortly afterward, and we didn't talk about what we'd seen until years later.

Neither of us went to play in that field, let alone the graveyard, ever again. My family moved to a house in the country the following year.

I began having a dream, which replayed the experience over and over. The dream is always the same. I see a very tall man dressed in a black suit standing not more than 10 yards away from us, who seemingly appears out of nowhere. Wearing no coat despite the freezing temperature, his skin is deathly white, his horrible glowing eyes are boring into my soul. His long hair isn't moving, even though the wind whips around him relentlessly. He stands on top of the snow, not sinking in as we do, and there isn't a footprint to be seen... Now, you might say that I was imagining things, and you might say that the sun was playing tricks on my eyes. And, you might be right, but then again...

4 years later, Michelle and I were with a group of friends, and they were all talking about weird things that had happened to them. When Michelle's turn came, she looked at me, and then proceeded to tell the story of that terrifying day, 4 years before, and every detail was exactly as I remembered it. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, and she did the same, upon seeing the expression on my face, for we now both knew that we'd seen the same thing, and neither of us was just imagining it. After the gathering, we talked about it a little bit, and she had been having the exact same dream, ever since the occurrence. Neither of us had ever told our parents or anyone else about it, for fear of being laughed at. I still have that dream every now and then, even though it's been 22 years