|The Old Haunted Graveyard (standard:Ghost stories, 1468 words)|
|Author: stanley mcqueen kentucky backwoods writer||Added: Apr 30 2007||Views/Reads: 2003/1037||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|ghost in the backwoods|
the old haunted graveyard Backwood writer stanley mcqueen The backwood of kentucky in early days before modern times come when giant trees adorned the the ridges , went men worked by the sweat of the brow, when all you would see back then was a wagon road that lead over the rought country side, just a few old rough shacks set along the ridges and some few and far between. this story takes us to a man called Flint Baker he and his wife lived deep inside the backwood of kentucky, back then corn was about the only thing people grew for money and is was a hard way especially when you had to plow with a mule and the ground was rocky and steep, and that was what Flint and his wife did they grew corn to sell in the fall , and they grew all their food... Flint and his wife both grew up in this country,and like their Fathers before them they had learned to love this rough way of life, so now begins my tale.. it was on monday that a man who lived about two miles from Flints shack come wanting a few days work from Flint , the old man name was Dan westerfield he owned a pretty good land track, and had a few cattle grazeing on what acres he has cleared , his fences has gotten pretty rotten and he was getting up in years, and needed a younger man like Flint to help , so Flint hired on and walked the two miles to get there by foot , Flint and the old gent had mended fences all day and it got late and Flint new he would have to walk the two miles home with only a coal oil lantern as his light..Flint had heared many stories about the old graveyard that was beside the old wagon path the very path that he had to follow to his shack. it was a scarey looking place even in the day time , it was and old graveyard it had been there many years and it was nearly grew over with all kinds of vines and many of the markers was leaning from age and storm that had hit the mountains in time passed ages..darkness in the backwood timber country is scarey, the mountain are no place to be walking alone, Flint being thirty years old and strong, he knew he dreaded passing the old graveyard, memories of his grandma tales, come back to his mind, as he walked by the light of his lantern, the old story she told of the haunt of the old burying place was awful to think about , she told him that the graveyard was filled with demon spirits the kind of spirit that would scare a late night walker.. flint was thinking of all kinds of scarey forms that might come swooping maybe out of the darken trees that he was walking under, what was out here in the night, what lurks in the night, to seek out someone walking in this remote woodland,. the deep hollows he was passing were darker than the highridges they worried him the shadows of the night and the flicker of his light was making him uneasy .. something was watching him he could feel the eyes of the night, stareing from the woods, the smell of fear was in his nostrils ...how could fate have gotten him walking, why did the darkness catch him and have him having to walk two miles to his shack , if he had worked harder that day maybe him and old man Dan would have gotten threw earlyer, and he would not be in such a terriable mess, knowing that up ahead of him was the worst to come the old graveyard he had feared all his life now was going to be maybe his fate ...what haunt would be his folly which of grandma old ghost would prove her right he wondered and walked a little faster... he thought maybe if i could go around the old graveyard and bypass the old place of the dead , but he could not... because of the steep snake laden ridges that joined the old graveyard , he wasn.t about to take the bluff regions, the short cut was not and option it was a have too thing on his part no way around the old place of the dead,.. on and old tree that grandma said a fellow was hung by his neck till he died , a man hung the man for stealing whiskey ..grandma said that after that on certain seasons blood would run down the limbs of the oak tree he was hung on and she said his ghost roams the woods looking for his head that the men cut off and threw it off a bluff someone in the woods.... all the stories he hadn,t thought of in years was comeing back plain again that he had heared so many times around the winter fire places back then when he was a child...and then the story she told about the little baby that had died when it was very young and was buried there , that on cloudless warm summer nights it can be heared at a certain seasons crying inside the ground of the graveyard...this give him the creeps the sobs of a baby crying and no baby in the woods alive, but one could hear the crying his grandma said ,,flint wondered about spirits would they kill a man or scare a man to death, this trouble his mind as he walked ... he wished he had brought his rifle but what good is a rifle in killing spirits he pondered in his thoughts...would his neigbors stumble across his dead corpse after his insides had been tore out and scattered along the woodland, would they find his after many days , for few people lived along these ridges in the first place...or would he be so mangled and torn that the varmits would eat his remains and he Click here to read the rest of this story (34 more lines)
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