Young Writers Society

The walk up to the cemetery was not that terrifying… But once I arrived, I was having second thoughts.

I should never have agreed to go to the cemetery at midnight. This was all because of that stupid dare! My best friends are so cruel sometimes.

The moon rose over the gate to Old Pine Cemetery. The gravestones were all battered and crumbling, especially the ancient ones in the back. The trees waved along with the ghastly howl that was the wind. I shivered and pulled my hood over my tangled light brown hair.

All I had to do was run all the way to the back of the cemetery and mark my initials in black pen... That was all. I started forward, trudging along the hard packed ground. I could imagine all the mourners that passed by here. I thought of all the bouquets of roses lost forever in this small and forlorn village of stone. My spine crawled.

I was passing the third row of headstones. I could not make out the withered names carved into stone, and I tried not to look at the ages. I hated being in this cemetery! The last time I was here, it was when my old great-great relative of someone died. I personally didn’t care, but seeing my whole family so upset, it bothered me.

I was at the fifth row now. The graves were even more damaged. With only one more row to pass, I began to break out in a cold sweat. I really didn’t have to be there. I could tell my friends I had chickened out. Then I heard the giggling. I looked around wildly, and there, in the trees were four eyeliner darkened sets of eyes.

Of course they would come! My so called four best friends who forced me to walk out in the middle of an old forsaken bone yard, where who knows what could be lurking beyond the last row, were probably laughing at my heroic bravery.

I stopped at the back row, with more giggles coming from the trees, and spied a grave at the very end.

It read: “Our Baby Forever” and I couldn’t read the name, but it said the kid was only five when he died. Poor little guy.

I took out a black pen, and with a shaking hand, I started to write the letter H, but before I was done, I heard a strange noise.

It started out soft, but then it got louder and louder. It was a baby crying. Not just crying, but wailing. I scanned the area, looking for the source of the sound, but to no prevail.

Suddenly, the earth around the grave that I choose started shaking. I stumbled backward, and fell over a headstone.

The ground exploded, shooting debris of who-knows-what at me. Right in front of me, there was what looked like a 5 year old child, but oddly misshapen.

The kid’s skin was snow white, and face was covered in tears. His eyes were dark red. He wore little overalls that were ripped and torn at, with blood staining the rips. There were cuts and bruises all over his face, and his head was completely bald.

I was scared out of my wits. I sat there, frozen with fear, until his lips moved.

“Who are you?”

His voice was raspy, as if he had been shoving needles down his throat.

“H-Haley,” I managed to say. I had never thought trembling with fear was literal, but now I believed it.

“So Haley, have you come to hear my story? Because if you have, I’m feeling generous tonight.”

I looked over at the trees where my friends were before. They were nowhere to be seen… Chickens.

“Y-Yes, I do want to hear your ...story,” I said. Personally, I had no idea what this, this thing, was talking about. I began to grow more confident that he would not eat me, or harvest my brain or something of that sort. I waited for the creature to begin.

“150 years ago, I lived on a small farm just over the trees. Life was hard. My parents thought that I did not need an education, so they kept me at home to work. Consider that I was only five when all this had happened. Anyway, my father beat me for disobeying, and I disobeyed a lot… Finally, it came to one night, when I had accidentally broken mother’s best china, father lost it. He let all hell lose, and with mother on his side, I was done for.”

I listened to him talk, trying to remember everything. I was really starting to feel bad for this little guy.

“I ran outside to hide, and found a jagged branch that would have worked just like a spear. That was the night I became an orphan. When the villagers saw what I had done, they came and slaughtered me.”

I shuddered. I didn’t feel sorry for him anymore. I started to back away slowly.

“So you see, living in a grave is lonely, and I would like a playmate.”

The last thing I ever heard was my own scream.