I could barely see the buildings I had left with a glance backward. Coincidence that I ended up here, perhaps thanks to it being on the outskirts of the small town? Or some more divine reason? It didn't matter. I'd probably have headed this direction once I'd had a moment to come up with a plan anyway.
                          
I kept my vision downward as I walked, making certain not to step on the sod covering the graves. During my research many years ago, I had been told rather than set foot directly where bodies lay, to only travel in straight lines between. 
                          
It was supposed to show respect to the spirits' resting place and therefore offer protection of your own, which made sense. There were both foot markers and traditional headstones and even a handful of ornate statues, mostly angels.
                          
I scanned the names as I went, catching some of the dates as well. Nothing stood out until I was about fifty spaces in and getting close to the trees. A sudden breeze caused me to squint and turn my head from its path where my brain became drawn toward a particularly shabby tombstone a few paces off.
                          
Still obliging the rules of travel, I made it over and stopped to study. Lloyd McGraff 1953-1983 was all that was engraved on the plain ocular marker, but it wasn't the last sign of attention it had been given. It seemed that, amidst the strangely well-kept yard, McGraff had been both neglected by staff and visited by vandals.
                          
Countless chips, including a massive block of the corner that nearly took the first name with it, discoloration, and even what looked like a dried out wad of gum decorated the placard. Also, there was a terribly unpleasant scent in the vicinity that involved piss and alcohol, if I wasn't mistaken. Just as a grimace reached my expression, so did a new sound reach my ears.
                          
Spinning around to determine the source of the distant voice, I was met with the same call from where I had previously been facing. Instead of turning again, however, I simply took in a deep breath and closed my eyes. The wind picked up. I could feel it slithering past my body, shuffling my clothes. Vaguely, the noise of a car driving, soon accompanied by a child's laughter somewhere nearby.
                          
Mark...
                          
Although the clarity with which my name had been whispered was startling, I forced myself not to react. Instead, I kept my eyes shut and continued listening. There was no chance of me figuring out the truth of my past if I didn't remain calm and act only with rationale. 
                          
The air circled with an abrupt exhilaration, bringing with it a chill most unusual for the region's summer weather. It was a rush I recognized from former spiritual encounters and I could feel the energy within me becoming elated, almost like it was begging to leave this flesh it was trapped in.
                          
My eyes shot open and I found my chest heaving as the fear of what I was doing overtook me. It had been so long since I considered a return to any paranormal belief...even greater was the time I had gone without practice. As I stood in the cemetery, hazy, unfocused vision resting on the serial killer's grave, I tried to make slow, deliberate breaths. 
                          
Trepidation was stronger, yet I also felt a certain amount of relief. I hadn't expected it, but everything was exactly the same. Blocking my sight in order to dull my physical senses and feel the unseen around me had instantly brought with it awareness of greater things in all my surroundings. 
                          
It was as powerful as it had been in the past. Furthermore, I could feel myself easily slipping into the beginnings of astral projection, should I have chosen to pursue it. At last regaining some semblance of control, I turned and gazed across the graveyard. There were no new visitors and only one vehicle nearby: mine. 
                          
I settled my vision more directly at the stones, allowing my eyes to pick up minor details and hoping that something would prick my focus. When I had finished searching to no avail, I rotated once again and stared at the trees behind me.