It's mid-afternoon and he has already made three blistering passes, but will need to nail three more to win. The crowd swarms, the kids play tag, and the men tell each other stats that they don't understand. He is sitting in the grid ready to race, like the hundreds of times before, he refuses to get out of the car even though it is will be thirty more minutes until he launches down that track at break-neck speeds. This is his time, this is one place where everything makes sense. He has spent the last week of sleepless nights going over every detail of his car to ensure everything is perfect. The car in front of him moves a slot forward in the grid, his wife pulls him forward with a golf cart, but he barely notices. It is all old hat for him at this point, and he knows the only thing that matters will happen when the the tree shows the green light. All he can see at this point is victory.

There is low hanging fog from the storm the night before, as we drive up to the station in Venice, VA. We arrive and load into the shining tube on wheels that will take us into the heart of DC and then back out to Arlington. As we arrive there is a palpable heaviness that overwhelms you. You climb the steps from the station and emerge on Memorial Ave. The stream of visitors at this hour is still light but becomes increasingly heavier with every step. As you walk up the avenue you pass statue after statue dedicated to battles, battalions, and soldiers who gave their lives to ensure that you are here today. As you pass through the gates, you take a moment to study the gold crest of the different branches of the U.S. Military services, and then it happens. It happens to everyone. You promise yourself that you're stronger than you are, and try to fight it. You look you up and as far as you see, are the tombstones of your countrymen and women. You do your best but you're overwhelmed with emotion, and find yourself crying. Not from grief, or sadness, but because there is no other way to express the overwhelming level of respect and gratitude that sweeps over you. 

The fog has cleared and the sun is poking it's head over the horizon as you begin your walk up the hill. You walk past heroes like Sargent Allan Eggers, who crossed a battle field under constant German machine gun fire to save an officer and 2 soldiers from a disabled tank brought them to a nearby trench. He then returned to the tank, retrieved their Hotchkiss gun, which allowed them to the hold the Germans back until ally forces could reach them. You walk past the generals, privates, sergeants, sailors, marines, grunts and infantry members that stood at the gates of hell and stopped the tide of destruction that spewed forth. Many of them gave their lives to do so, the rest lived with the nightmares for the rest of their lives. You stop and pray for a society in the future where soldiers don't need to exist, but also thank God that the American Soldier is on your side.

As we reach the top, the already near silent cemetery becomes a world absent of sound, for you have arrived at the Tomb of the Unknown solider. You take your place in the viewing gallery with people that have come from all over the planet to show their respect for the men and women that have, for the last two and half centuries, given their lives, standing between mankind and their oppressors. Tears run from every eye.

The only sounds you can hear now are the mechanical steps from the guard pacing as he carries out the endless watch for his fallen brethren. His steps fall with prefect precision, his turns at each end are completed with sound of metal on metal as he switches the gun from one shoulder to the other, and his uniform is so completely untouched that you almost feel like you're in a dream. He will stand guard until he is replaced with another soldier of equal discipline and ability throughout the day. They never leave duty for rain, snow, sleet, lighting, hurricanes or fire. At 30 past the hour the Staff Sergeant comes out of the barracks with the next guard. The changing of the guard takes approximately 5 minutes. During the ceremony, it is ensured that the constant vigilance is never broken. The new solider walks side by side with solider coming off duty and the two switch seamlessly. There are few places in the world were you can go to see true perfection, this is one of them

The wind teases the tops of the trees. The leaves rustle under foot. The air has a cool, crisp bite to it. It is time for the first of the two large autumn holidays in the United States. S'mores will be toasted around camp fires as ghost stories are told. Kids will go trick or treating or to other local festivals. Pumpkins will be carved with grinning smiles. Kids of all ages will dress up as mythical creatures, celebrities, animals, various professions and everything in between. Home owners will go overboard with building mini spook houses in their front yard and restaurants will add special menu items. People will travel far and wide for the opportunity to be scared in one of the dozen full production spook houses around town. Below is our story of visiting a local grave yard in search of the creatures of the night with a local ninja.

Model Meera Kazmi

We arrived at the cemetery around 6:30. It was still bright out, but the sun was approaching the horizon with unsettling speed. Our guard and guide for the night meets us at the mausoleum. She introduces herself as Meera, and checks our gear to ensure our safety. She quickly corrects us to calling her a shinobi. We learn that she has recently celebrated her 1100th birthday even though she doesn't look at a day over 20. She explains during the early days of training to master Ninjutsu, she was inducted into special special sect of the martial art. There she was trained to hunt, fight and defeat the monsters of the night. She was also taught how to harness their energy to remain forever young.

Model Meera Kazmi Model Meera Kazmi

As we walk down the paths of the graveyard, we pass an ancient grave. Perched upon the top of it is what can best described a pirate vampire. I jump, run and scream like a little girl. Meera laughs at me and introduces me to her comrade Anna. Apparently in the late sixteen hundreds a vampire horde had ravaged the country side where Anna's family had lived. Most of the villagers were slaughtered, but the young were turned to the darkness of the vampiric world. Anna spent two hundred years as a slave to vampire that had created her. In the late eighteen hundreds Meera killed Anna's master and invited her to join her in the hunt for monsters around the world.

Model Anna Kazmi Model Anna Kazmi Model Anna Kazmi

Next we go back to the mausoleum, Meera explains some creatures of the night are harmless and therefore shouldn't be harmed. As we round the corner a broken marionette doll lies upon the ground. The doll explains that she failed her master and he cut her stings. She begs us to stand her up and we lean her against the columns of the building, but she falls again, so we prop her up against a tombstone continue our search.

Model Miracle Autumn Model Miracle Autumn Model Miracle Autumn

Model Miracle Autumn

In the back of the graveyard we find Jack. Meera explains that he comes from a land full of evil and darkness, but he wandered by accident into the land of Christmas and refuses to go back to his homeland. So night after night he pursues his love of the temptress Katye, but he never achieves his goal. He has been effected by a curse, placed by Santa Claus, that any he loves will forever be beyond his reach. The demon Katye, long realizing this, teases him night after night as she feeds upon the energy of his love. Meera explains that although unfair to Jack she allows it to continue as defeating one would release the other to escape and torture mankind, or go into a rage for his lost love and revert to being a nightmare to all mankind.

Model Kevin Kritzmire Model Kevin Kritzmire

Model Katye Ribble Models: Katye Ribble & Kevin Kritzmire Models: Katye Ribble & Kevin Kritzmire Models: Katye Ribble & Kevin Kritzmire Models: Katye Ribble & Kevin Kritzmire

As the moon reaches it's zenith, sobbing can be heard throughout the graveyard. The crows fly and the black cats hide. Meera turns to me with a sinister grin and laughs. She reveals the true goal of tonight's visit - the legend of the zombie bride. It is said that she was killed in the early 17th century by a pirate king, but unknown to him was that she was the descendent from a long line of witches. Every year on Halloween she raises from the dead and feeds upon the living, never realizing time has passed and always forgetting what she is until she sees her first victim. When she first sees her first victim, with dried blood still on her face, she first tries to seduce them and when the victim is repulsed by her, her true zombie nature comes out. After a long battle and lots of blood shed, Meera stands triumphant over the body of the bride and we call it a night

Model Rim Basma Model Rim Basma Model Meera Kazmi Model Rim Basma Model Meera Kazmi Model Rim Basma Model Meera Kazmi Model Rim Basma

Model Rim Basma Model Meera Kazmi Model Rim Basma Model Meera Kazmi Model Rim Basma Model Meera Kazmi

Model Rim Basma