Cemetery

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
There is so much more to a place where everyone will be invited to- at some point.

Submitted: April 03, 2017

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Submitted: April 03, 2017

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Cemetery

The long and ongoing rows of cold and unwelcoming stones all shared one factor, color. The color of stones was white, however some as if created a bleak atmosphere that aimlessly existed beside them. Stones were purely white, like the bodies of the dead that were buried, but the people that came all wore dark colors. Monotonous grass grew analogical with the corpses, but when it died it was not buried. Only the endless amounts of people got the privilege to rot beside each other, and not get replaced with an innovated and a fresh self. Gravestones, made of marble, were smooth and lifeless. Narrow and trodden pathways along an infinite amount of stones and flowers, that tried to lighten up the gloomy air of the cemetery.

Yellow, heavy star in the sky was using its bright rays to light the spacious glade of dead persons. Losing its desirable shape and a look, tombstones became similar to pieces of lifeless and tasteless flabby stones. Gravestones were expressing the years of corpses underground, with there monstrosity and deformity. Everyone who passed by knew that those who were unfortunate and miserable endlessly wandered on this land, regretting or trying to forget their errors. It is the earth that didn’t make mistakes, and these coffins who liked their cadavers. People die one earlier and one later than the other...Mainly, in one's vital term considered by God.

As the dark night covered the cemetery in it’s deathly black darkness, it became dreadful and uncomfortable. Leaves and the trees were painted a black color, as if an experienced artist knocked over his paint and began slowly observing its actions. The air was warm and full of summer’s geniality and heating, so paradoxically relative to the place. The moon replaced the sun, lightening up the wafted gloom. Thought of a full moon caused fear in superstitious minds, those thinking of witches and other magical creatures. Whether gray or white it reflected light from the sun, stationary it hovered above the heap of stones, which in turn stood without a single rustle.

The cemetery and the many colors of death it carried, looked morbid no matter what time of day it was. At night, birds didn’t sing nor did the grass give off a hopeful and a promising shade of fortune.  There was no space for the desired success and a wanted a chance, but there was a mysterious tune heard from the distance. The mystical and an arcane melody one can hear from below, there where only the hand of God could reach. Forgotten gates of a dirty color, slowly creaked and twisted from one side to the other. Those gates through which people deliberately walked to bury their loved ones, or just those whom they patiently tolerated.

The long and constant rows of cold and unwelcoming stones all shared one factor, color. No one dared to laugh or to make fun of the admired gravestones. Children with great tranquility and in quite manner passed by the endless amounts of graves, snuggled to their parents not understanding the whole seriousness of the scenery. The largest collection of people in the city was present in the cemetery and in its long-lasting and a dreadful future. 


© Copyright 2017 Shuna. All rights reserved.

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