It was a cold night.
The sky bare of stars and only the moon in sight.
I stood alone, my feet planted on wet, trimmed grass.
Looking down on a tombstone with no clue as to whose it was.
I could hear the leaves rustling but I couldn't feel the breeze.
Something wasn't right, my stomach slowly churned in unease.
I looked behind me and was frozen in place.
I saw a pumpkin-headed figure with a scar across its face.
It lifted a scythe and aimed for my head.
The next thing I knew, I was back in my bed.