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|Midnight In The Graveyard (standard:Ghost stories, 564 words)|
|Author: Walker||Added: Feb 19 2007||Views/Reads: 1303/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|this describes the encounter of the wandering author with a ghost on a windy, rainy night.|
The night has started squeaking as I walk along the long and lonesome highway. Alone in this moonless hour, the mind starts wandering (as it always does); starts to think about the unnatural and satanic beings. An owl hoots at a distance, the same old cliché, and my cloak starts to get heavy as raindrops begin to soak up the night. The wind is howling and the unseen nightlife starts to evade this walking, unknown to them, figure. Then a lay-by attracts my attention and a hope rises from within that there might be some place to rest and the truth of this is confirmed by a fainting light hanging at a doorway. As I come closer the doorway clears into a grilled gate which is the entrance of a graveyard so notorious. A chill runs down my spine but the heavy downpour forces me to enter into this place of the damned. I open the rusty gate which makes an eerie sound as it gives way for me to enter into this spooky place where every tombstone has a story of its own engraved on it. The white graves, the slushy pathway all make it difficult for me to walk up to the now coughing, ready to blow out any time, lantern. The room is dark and dingy and the cobwebs hang all over the place but the lantern provides enough light for me to walk up to the fireplace where a few logs lie, half wet. I take out a lighter from my pocket and try to light one but it just gives a sigh and dies out. Then the gas in the lantern helps. In a moment the fireplace is burning red. I take my cloak and hang it out to dry and sit beside the fire smoking a cigarette and drying myself. Suddenly footsteps are heard and that heavy sound clearly indicates that it is coming toward me. I am exhausted and this sound is totally unwelcome but still I am not the one who can do anything about it. The shadow grows larger and a man enters the room drenched with rainwater. I think of him to be somebody like me. “Are you a traveler?” “No, I stay here.” “Then you must be the caretaker or the watchman.” We start to talk about various things like this unseasoned rain and how I got caught up at a place like this. After a while I just glance at my watch and see that it is nearly 0300hrs in the night and the rain has slowed down and I am pretty dry. “I think I should move now.” “Take care, the ground is slushy and there is a well with a low wall. Don't fall into it. I won't be able to help because I can't swim.” The man was smiling. The smile makes me uneasy. The man turns around and starts walking toward the door. “Excuse me...” At this he starts laughing... laughing that sounds like screams of a dying man. So scary is the feeling that I can talk no more. Rooted to one spot, I just see him walk into the well. Scared to the bone I walk up to the well and peep inside. A shrieking bat flies out into the trees and my words ‘excuse me' are audible all over. I run screaming into the night. Tweet
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