The Cemetery Walk

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 09, 2017

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Submitted: December 09, 2017



I stand at the entrance of the cemetery, like I did hundreds of times before, and look at the shabby, chipped path before me, the path which allows you to forego half a mile of walking for a little over 100 meters. 

It is nearly midnight. The moon's but a tiny firefly in this vast darkness. The old cemetery doesn't really smell but it does have a lot of dust and webcobs. 

The caretaker of the cemetery is an old man, who doesn't do his job well and with good reason; no one really comes to the cemetery anymore. The occupants of the cemetery exceeded the space and thus, a new one was built some distance away. The graves accumulate dust and the flowers which the few visitors, who come far in between, put in front of the graves are wilted and crisp.

It is through this graveyard that I now walk. I wasn't scared, and I wasn't apprehensive. Rather, I was preoccupied, preoccupied with the thoughts of my friends.

They were old. We talked the same talk, laughed at the same jokes and spent time at the same place. There was nothing new and I was bored. I wanted to move someplace else, but I knew it wasn't possible. What is possible is me getting a new friend. 

Surely he would have something new to talk about, surely he would know something new.

As I thought this, I saw this boy come towards me from the opposite side. 

He was tall. He had thin gangly arms. They hung by his side, loose. His shoulders were slumped. And he was looking down. 

He reminded me of a ghost; or what I thought a ghost would be like. I almost thought that when he looked up, his face would be all cut and bloody and ghastly. Almost.

Then he did look up. He had an ordinary face, thin and tired. He had a bag slunk over his shoulder. I felt excitement brewing up. A bag meant books; books will have something new. 

I hated studying but at present, I felt like I could welcome even textbooks.

I wanted that bag. I have to have it.

I started walking faster. The boy looked up and saw me.

His pale face became even paler. He threw his hands up in the air. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. Then he just turned and ran. 

And I ran after him.

If he crossed the cemetery and ran onto the road, I wouldn't be able to take his bag. 

But I needn't worry about that. He was almost near the exit, when he tripped on something invisible. His body flailed like a rag doll, uncontrollable and free.

And he fell. Right onto a upright spike which wasn't there a moment ago. It pierced his neck, making a hole right through it. He stopped moving.

I didn't laugh. I knew this was done by my friends, but it was an old trick. But I was happy.

I went near the now dead boy, and took the bag off his body. There were some new books in there and a miracle of miracles, even a novel!

I was happy. Delighted, in fact. And my joy only grew with the thought that I would receive a new friend soon!

But then I realized. His throat is gone, busted. He couldn't talk. Even though he knew so much more, so many new things he wouldn't be able to tell them me. 

A shame.

But for now, I was content with the novel.



Thank you for reading my work. Don't forget to like it, if you've enjoyed it. I also welcome your feedback.

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