Seeing the figure in the distance was indeed real and not a figment of my imagination. They were standing there facing one of the graves and as I assumed was looking at it by the slight tilt of their head. I didn't know exactly what I should do next except to stand here or just leave this place. Leaving was the better choice of the two, but I could not help to be curious about the stranger. Against my better judgement I turned to their direction and began walking. In normal circumstances a person would have some form of anxiety or a deeper feeling of caution; for some reason I do not feel any of that.

    The air is dusty, which it was not that way before. Each step that became a moment of the past brought a feeling that struck through my heart, piercing the veil of my being to my very soul. It felt as though that I lost all sense of who I was. It was a feeling that I could not explain. Each grave that I passed by, I could not help but take a glance at them. My heart grew heavy as I could feel my insides trembling. It was not of fear, but of sorrow. This place, this cemetery, I can feel it is one of many. I walked further reading the names on the graves and their messages of love and remembrance. I looked at those that were crudely made without names etched into them. The feelings grew stronger and continued to do so until I stood completely still. I looked forward and the figure now slightly closer, stood still as they were. I can feel them all, I can feel it all. Such emotion brought me to my knees.

    I could no longer hold it back, and so I wept. This pain I know all too well. The memories of what I just went through, the past, everything. None though are why I weep. The feelings I feel are the ones left here by those that came before. Those that no longer walk this mortal realm. The memories, the spirit of this world lives on although everything else will not. A soul trapped in a corpse…

    "I know your pain." a voice gently said. 

    I looked up slightly from the ground to see the tops of black boots. I looked up to see ragged clothing of dark colors, which could be to help blend into the darkness as a way of stealth. However, the clothes were a little larger and more loose on the stranger's body. They wore a cloak that was a very dark green. It seemed that the cloak itself was in pristine condition compared to the rest of the clothing. The hands were shrouded under dust and dirt covered gauntlets. My eyes finally met with the face of the stranger, and to my surprise they wore a knight's helmet that too was covered in dust which covered the elegant design of the helm. Where the eyes would be, a faint light glows. The light is a baby blue and the closer I look it reminded me more of the light and movement of a flame. I looked beyond the figure, to see that they must have been the one standing in the distance looking at the grave.

    I looked back at them, staring once more into their burning eyes. The ethereal flame was mesmerising. The longer I looked the more I came to realize the fact that the voice I heard, the person that I see may not be a person at all. How could I know for sure though. To assume such a thing could be a mistake. Who can truly tell a person that they are or are not a person. I am a guest in their world, and who can know if the people here...were here looked like the individual that stands before me.  I remember what my father once told me.

    "In a world full of people, one can never truly know if someone is truly a person. One can be brave, selfless, the kind that would be called a hero. A hero is beyond just a person because they look beyond themselves and see those around them that people would not help, or refuse to see. For their kindness, their love, they are seen as more than just themselves. 

    The same can be seen with people that choose to no longer be a person. Their hate, violence, malevolence, they themselves become no more than the monsters that we teach our children to fear, fight against, and to protect others from. A person can lose their humanity, that love and kindness; with that they lose themselves. 

    However, what makes them different? Their actions do. What they choose to do is what makes the difference between them both. Remember though, however they look, they were at one point a person, and still are in the end. Because of that, anyone and anything can change be it a person, a beast, or whatever it may be; and that you must always carry with you even when I'm no longer here. Remember my words, because not only will it help you know who your friends are, but also to remember who you are."

    Those words etched in my mind echoed as my eyes were still locked upon the mesmerising light of the eyes of this being.  The echo faded as the moment broke as the stranger held their hand out to me.