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The dead don’t always stay dead (standard:Ghost stories, 1297 words)
Author: KirkieAdded: Nov 06 2004Views/Reads: 3316/2178Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a true story. It did happen to my village many years ago, when I was very young and I believed that things do happen and nobody knew the answer to everything! I’ve also knew the ‘victim’ a young boy of 13, who lived a few houses further down my

The dead don't always stay dead! 

This is a true story. It did happen to my village many years ago, when I
was very young and I believed that things do happen and nobody knew the 
answer to everything! I've also knew the ‘victim'  a young boy of 13, 
who lived a few houses further down my road, if you could call that 
path we used to take everyday to and from school, with today's 
standards, a  ‘road'.  Only a few years older than me, he used to 
ignore me, like I was invisible, every time he saw me at school or 
outside playing. I guess it was a normal behaviour for boys of that 
age, older kids who avoid the young ones like the plague, especially 
younger girls, as they had a reputation to protect and mates who 
wouldn't forget and forgive. Nevertheless,  I knew him well as I knew 
most of the residents of our small village. We lived in a rather 
isolated area and our village was rather small and unknown until of 
course the ‘incident' took place and our village became the talk of the 
island for many years to come. 

I remember it well when it started, a few days later after the ‘funeral'
of a very old neighbour who died all alone in his sleep. Everybody was 
discussing it for days, old and young. He had been dead for more than 
two days before he was discovered on his bed by one of the neighbours 
who came looking for him as he hadn't t been seen anywhere. He lived 
all alone since his two sons left for the city and his wife had died a 
few years before. The neighbours used to take pity on him and brought 
him food and kept an eye as he was very old and not well since the 
death of his wife. Nobody knew where his two sons were so the village 
took responsibility for the funeral as everybody felt sorry for the old 
man. Everybody except from us, as we didn't really like him because he 
always seemed mean and he used to shout at us every time he saw us 
outside playing or even walking for that matter. I guess he was bitter 
because his own kids deserted him.   So when he died and after he was 
buried we still didn't believe that he has gone, we thought that the 
old man was still around, perhaps as a ghost, just waiting to take 
revenge on us... 

So a couple of days later after the funeral, a late evening, we were all
gathered in somebody's porch, when one  the older children started 
telling ghost stories, trying, as usual to scary us (the younger ones). 
Telling stories was one of evenings entertainment those days as it was 
too dark to play and no TV was available (too expensive those days).  
One of the popular stories,  that was often mentioned, was about our 
old cemetery, which it was older than the village itself and it had a 
very bad reputation. Many rumours were going around; speculating on 
what it was going on there in the dark hours and nobody believed that 
they were just old folks' tales... 

So that particular night, as it was expected, the recent death of the
old man was mentioned and that perhaps his ghost was already wondering 
in that old cemetery at night. It was at that point, the boy, who 
always ignored me and who was one of the older members of our group, 
spoke up for the first time and told us, being half serious and half 
joking, that he didn't believe any of those old stories. He declared, 
with a very serious tone of voice, that he wasn't afraid of any old 
creepy cemetery, day or night and he was going to prove to us that 
there was nothing ‘supernatural' going on at that place. ‘Dead are 
staying dead' he told us. 

Nobody of course thought that he was being serious but he insisted that
he meant what he said and he intended to prove us all wrong. He was 
planning to go there the following night on his own and as a proof he 
was going to leave his knife at the old man's grave for us to find the 
following morning if we were brave enough to go there during the day of 

We didn't believe him. Nobody on his right mind would even think to go
to that ‘cursed' place on their own after sunset. Nobody, young or old 
was that stupid to visit that place at night... Still, to prove him 
wrong we agreed to go ourselves the morning after to look for his 
knife, as we believed that  it would be safe (safety in numbers) to go 
when the sun was out. 

The following day everybody was anxious for the night and then the
morning to come so we could finally visit that creepy place and prove 
to our friend that we weren't afraid after all. Well, not during the 

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