Skeleton in the Tattered GownThe Skeleton in the Tattered GownThe man saw her every night, walking amongst the graves. He lived beside the cemetery as a gravedigger, so he could hardly ignore it. It never failed. When the day was done and the sun began its slumber beyond the hills, the moon would rise and light up the sky. It's light would glint off of those porcelain bones. They would illuminate the curves of her shapely skull. Did she not know she was dead?The skeleton with the tattered gown, walking amongst the graves - creaking and cracking, her hollow sockets searching blindly about. Or perhaps not so blindly, for she had made it a habit of gazing up at his window, somehow able to wake him with a silent nudge, as he would turn to his window and see her.She never knocked, never attempted to open the door or break a window. She just watched with her skeleton grin. Perhaps just a fascination with the living?