Wormhout Graveyard

On a lonely hill just outside of town lays quiet graveyard known as **Wormhout Graveyard**. It's a small graveyard, with only a few hundred gravestones, two or three dusty family mausoleums, and a couple of melancholy willows. All tightly bound in a ribbon of overgrown iron fences. Usually it is so quiet that one would be forgiven for thinking that beyond it's construction noting of note has ever happened in Wormhout Graveyard, yet when you ask the locals you will discover that nothing is further from the truth.

## Myth

There once was a conductor who was happily married to his childhood sweetheart. But only few short years later their bliss ran out when his wife died from consumption. The conductor and the rest of the town held a lovely funeral for the conductor's wife. They mourned her for a few weeks before continuing with their lives. For the townsfolk life went on, but the conductor was not so quick to forget his beloved.

Heartbroken and alone, he began to search for a way to speak to her. This search led him down a forbidden path; the path of necromancy, which was forbidden by the law of the land. During the evening he would lead the town's orchestra performance. Then at midnight he would secretively study dark leather-bound tomes of necromancy before rising up early and leading the orchestra's rehearsal. After many sleepless nights he stumbled upon a way to talk to the dearly departed, and that night after performing for the mayor's jubilee he stealth away to Wormhout Graveyard. There the conductor burned a couple of sticks of incense and began reciting the forbidden incantation and up from her grave rose the spirit of his beloved wife. He asked her if it was really her and she answered him that yes, it was her.

From that day onward the conductor would sneak every night to Wormhout to talk together with his wife. Together they would read the books she had not yet finished in life and would continue studying the necromantic tomes the conductor had purchased. The conductor sneaked off quiet often now and the townsfolk began to become suspicious, but he was a well respected member of the community so they only went as far as spreading rumours and conspiracies.

All summer long when the concerts were over and the sun had settled the conductor would sit with his wife, but when fall arrived he noticed a sadness come over his wife. When he asked what was wrong she told him that she would love to hear him perform again, but that as a spirit she couldn't come to his performance. Upon hearing this the conductor concocted a plan. For her birthday later that month he would bring the performance to her.

On the night of her birthday the conductor had a performance. The performance went on for longer than he had hoped and halfway through he excused himself. By this point the town's suspicion had boiled over and as he hastened toward the graveyard the townsfolk decided to quietly follow him to see what he was up to. There he raised his wives spirit and told her to sit down for a special surprise. Then he pulled out his conducting wand and raised the other spirits in the graveyard, asking around who amongst them knew how to play an instrument in life. Those who knew how to were asked to float next to people who could play the same instrument and those who couldn't play any instrument were asked to form a choir together. The townsfolk had come up to the iron fence and were looking in shock as they saw the conductor perform the forbidden art of necromancy. The guards were ready to storm in and to arrest him but the mayor was curious to see what the conductor was doing and told them to hold back a little longer. The conductor then grabbed the sheet with his wife's favourite piece out of his pocket and placed it on the grass before the spirits. Together with his ghostly orchestra the conductor performed once more for his wife, and to the rest of his secret audience as well. That night, despite the band being a host of spirits, no dirge was performed, for the wife had always been a fan of more cheerful songs when she was still in the bloom of her life. When the conductor turned around and bowed he saw that his wife was crying and rushed up to her to ask what was wrong, but she told them those were cries of joy and thanked him for this wonderful birthday gift. The mayor and the townsfolk were also crying in their hiding spot. The mayor decided that despite it being outside of his influence to revoke the law against necromancy he would give the conductor secret immunity, and he and the rest of his entourage sneaked back into the night without the conductor ever knowing he was witnessed.

Every year for the rest of his live on his wife's birthday the conductor would host a performance with the spirits for her. While a small hidden audience of townspeople would watch from the shadows with joy and amazement. And when he died he was laid to rest next to her, yet the children of the town swear that on the day his wife's birthday the spirit host would still rise from their graves, with a ghostly conductor to lead them in their performance.