Cemetery(11-15)

THE CEMETERY

(Halloween story)

 

by

Clem Mason

 

(age 11-15)

(wc-550)

 

Along with their dog Ruff, Tom and Mary walked along at a leisurely pace, laying out there plans as they went. Then the saw the stones of the cemetery cast in an eerie glow in the moonlight. They planned to lurk in the shadows of the cemetery and jump out and scare any would be trick-or-treaters who happened along. After crouching behind the two large pillars of the front gate; one on either side, they giggled at the wickedness of their scheme.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Tom whispered. He dared laugh.

“Yeah,” Mary whispered back. “Those kids are going to wet their pants before we get done with them,” she giggled.

Just then, Ruff whimpered and looked back into the dark depths of the cemetery; his fur ruffled. He began barking.

“What is it, boy?” Mary asked the nervous dog.

“Hey! Keep him quiet or he’s going to give us away,” Tom complained bitterly.

Just as Mary reached for him, Ruff snarled, nipping her hand and then he bolted into the blackness. They listened to the little dog stir the dry leaves as he ran into the blackness, fearfully yelping. Suddenly, he let a sharp cry and then there was nothing but silence. The only sound was the wind moaning in the bare trees.

“I wonder what that was all about?” Tom asked.

“He bite me,”Mary said, rubbing her hand. “Something back there really scared him, Tom. Come on, I’m scared too. Let’s go home.”

“Hey!” Tom said. “We’re the scare’ers, not the scare’ees.”

At that moment, they heard the leaves rustle behind them and Mary let out a loud shriek. In the dim moonlight, Tom saw her suddenly fly up and back, disappearing into the night.

“Oh,God,” she screamed. At was a loud, hideous scream. Then it was quiet. Much too quiet.

“Mary?” Tom asked. “Mary, what the hell is going on?” There was no answer. “Hey! You’re suppose to be scaring the kids, not me,” Tom protested.

He stood up and peered into the blackness and suddenly, two large serpentine red eyes came to hover above him, glaring down. He was frozen in absolute terror. Just as he turned to run, it grabbed him. It’s powerful grip nearly crushing his chest, it’s claws digging deep into his flesh. He screamed out in excruciating pain. The last thing Tom was conscious of as the beast ripped off his arms and legs was the rancid stench of this vile creature.

 

The next morning, the cemetery caretaker found the severed head of a little dog, lying in the road. It’s eyes open wide with fright. “What a sick Halloween prank that is,” he said, kicking it aside. Just inside the gate of the cemetery, he noticed a mound of dirt, resembling a fresh grave. He laughed, scratching his chin. No harm done he thought, but the kids who done this went to a lot of work for nothing. He chose not to disturb it as it was the day after Halloween. Little did he know that below that mound of dirt were the remains of two teenage kids that a certain beast had dismembered and was sure to return after darkness to feast upon them at its leasure.

 

THE END.

OR IS IT?

 

 

If you liked this story and you feel the poor, old author deserves to be compensated for this creation in his retirement, then please feel free to send $1.00 to Clem Mason, c/o Backwater Publishing, 66021-0213.

Please tell your friends where you found this web site.

Questions andcomments are welcome.Thank you for your honesty and integrity.