It was a particularly stormy night in the Ponyville cemetery. The cloudy overcast covered the moon lit land in dark shadows, as rain slammed into the ground, creating puddles where ever the ground would allow.
The cemetery itself was always a depressing place, but recent events and the weather had added to the oppressive atmosphere. It being a place that housed ones forgotten dead, grave stones dotted the landscape in a systematic grid, each stone an equal distance from each other. Stone statues and headstones gleamed in the rain, and some of the inlaid metal letters and plaques glowed in combination of the rain and moonlight.
Paths stretched themselves throughout the grave yard, offering ways for any mourners. If one were to follow a particular path, they would find a relatively newly filled plot with a fresh headstone, unaltered by time. Freshly dug earth had yet to be recovered by grass, despite the ambient magic in the area. If one were to walk past this plot of land, they would know instantly that a new, poor soul was claimed by the cold grip of death.
The lack of grass, however, was not the interesting part about this particular plot of land. What was interesting was the simple headstone that jutted out from the ground.
The headstone was made from a dark black stone that seemed to absorb and light that touched it. As a stark opposite, the letters were made from a bright white, polished platinum, one that seemed to reflect any light that graced it. The two seemed to work in a perfect contrastic order. One absorbed the light, the other made it shine. It was a perfect example of opposites working together to make a balance. The stone drawing the light in, the letters making it shine even brighter. The letters read:
Here lies Connor Jason Hents. "Do not be afraid, for I shall be with you soon." He died as he lived, With a smile on his face.
Laid atop the dark stone, a pair of gold rimmed aviator sunglasses sat forlornly, waiting for their owner to take them up again.
To anyone who read the beautiful white letter, a strong sense of sadness would over come them. Anyone who knew anything about the now-buried man would tell you that he was a being of life and energy. He could make anyone in a room amused, if not outright smile. He had many friends, all of whom would mourn the loss of him. Connor was gone now, and the world was a darker and dimmer place for it.
In front of the headstone, there was a sudden shifting of earth, and a hand shot out of the ground. The hand felt around the immediate area in its reach, and found a weak spot in the dirt. It started to tear away at the ground, making the hole it just made even larger, until a second hand shot out of the dirt. Both hands were scrambling around, throwing dirt every which way, all in an effort to get out.
The hole finally became large enough, and a head popped out. The man's face was set in effort, as he planted both hands on the ground, grunted with effort, and pulled his torso out of the dirt. He then began to shuffle around, pulling his legs free.
The man was panting, leaning against the headstone, his ankles dangling in the hole he created. He pushed his short, white hair away from his forehead, and muttered, "Well, that was fun..." he climbed his way to his feet and brushed himself off, inspecting his clothes as he went.
"Huh," he whispered, still panting. "So that's what happens when I wear a suit..."
He looked off in the direction of Ponyville, took a step, and then stopped. He quickly slapped his head, muttered, "Duh," to himself, and turned around toward the headstone, reaching his hand out.
Where he grasped his sunglasses, and put them on.
He took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, "Oh, yeah. I'm back."