Prologue: A Grave Mistake
Something was definitely lurking in the shadows as the shovel took its first bite at the muddy ground.
The person who was holding the shovel couldn’t be identified in the dark. With strong arms the person was able to build a pile of dirt beneath the grave, and the hole was getting larger and larger with each dig.
It was a cold October night, the cloudy sky hid the full moon and the last candles people lit up to honour their loved ones had just died out. As if the complete darkness wasn’t bad enough, the wind was ice cold and blew in the opposite direction of the sim, making the digging much more difficult.
However, the sim’s determination was far stronger than any wind.
As the clouds thought they’d done enough for the night and slowly unveiled the moon, the shovel hit something hard. With new enthusiasm the person threw it away and started digging up the rest with their hands, revealing a coffin. It was barely visible and hardly intact, but that didn’t seem to make the sim less happy. Long fingers became a full fist, and the lid flew open leaving a large gap as if it had just been evaporated in the air. The wind was getting stronger and something seemed to be moving in the dark trees. Surely it was nothing, but the sim couldn’t help but to look over their shoulder just to make sure.
As their hands slowly followed the inside of the coffin, their eyes grew wider and wider.
"No… no…", they started to whisper. Whatever in the coffin was so frightening was confirmed when only a painting was found inside of it. The wind blew furiously and the sound of thunder breaking down a tree not too far away dawned out all other sounds.
"This can’t be… we’ve…", the sim whispered, and tears started to fall down from their eyes.
For what reason, nobody knows yet. All we know is as we left the graveyard, laughter was following us. A laughter which anytime could break out into tears.