The Graveyard

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Cover image: pixabay.com.

The Graveyard

I’ve used this short-cut so many times; hundreds, if not thousands of nights before. But tonight there’s something different about it. Threatening? Menacing? I don’t know, can’t honestly put my finger on what it is, but I do know I am very uneasy.

It’s an old graveyard. To be honest, I’m not sure there is any space left. I’ve certainly not noticed any newly dug, recently covered graves. And all the stones are old, weathered and stained. Some have become so worn that it is impossible to make out more than the odd letter or number.

I don’t usually give this much thought, but tonight I can’t help wondering if they mind. The corpses, once recognized, have now become unidentifiable unless some family member has memorized the position of a loved one long since gone.

The gate to the graveyard has become stiff and hard to open. I used to fight with it to give just enough to let me through, but not any more. Now, I just scale the wall, for I know that there’s nothing right underneath it.

It is already almost dark. It shouldn’t be, not just yet, but the clouds are thick and heavy with rain. There’s a mist rising up from the ground that reaches up to my knees before it thins out into no more than swirls of vapor.

I bury my hands in my pockets and hunch forward. It’s not raining but I am becoming drenched from the moisture of the mist. Shivering, I pick up my pace, pretty confident that I know my way even if I can’t see my way.

I wish I could see my feet. Or at least hear my own footsteps. There is no wind, no sound other than the thump, thump, thump of my pulse echoing through my mind. Still, I must be nearly at the end of the graveyard now. Just another few steps and I should be back out on the street with it’s illuminations.

There’s no wall in sight. No street lamps either. Somewhere along the way I have taken a wrong fork in the path and have got myself lost. There’s a faint noise behind me, like a sigh on the wind that isn’t there. Someone is breathing!

I turn around, quickly, but there’s no one there. Nothing to see at all. Get it together, I tell myself. I’m not a little kid. I can handle a walk through a graveyard at night.

There! In front of me. There was a flash of movement.

“Hello!” I call out, but my voice is muffled. Maybe that explains why no one answers me. It’s nothing more sinister than they have not heard me, if there was ever anyone there.

I shouldn’t have turned, should have just carried on, for now I don’t know which way to go. No problem, you might think. Whichever way I walk should bring me back out onto a street eventually. I know that; logic says that it has to be so, but tonight it’s not working. Tonight is scarily illogical.

The graveyard is a big one at the best of times, but now that I’m lost it seems gargantuan. I begin to walk one way then change my mind and turn a different way. Perhaps that’s the problem. I’m not sticking to one direction for long enough to get anywhere.

So I pick the path that runs off towards my left. Is it the right one? Hell if I know, but I’m going to keep on putting one foot in front of the other even though there is any increasing chill running right down my spine.

And then I stumble. Something caught my foot. It’s just a stone, I tell myself, and then my mind goes loop-the-loop with visions of me kicking a grave.

‘Don’t run!’ I tell myself. But it’s too late, my mind has got in a panic and is not going to listen to me. I can hear something pursuing me. More than one something – they’re coming in in all directions with me smack bang in the center.

And something pulls, something pushes, and I’m heading towards the ground, but it sure seems a long way down. I trip and I slip and there’s mud and stones falling with me until I land on something solid but cushioned too.

Oh, god, no! I know where I am! I’m inside a coffin and I need to turn around and get myself out of it quickly. Half way through turning the lid slams shut.

Darkness like no other. There’s no mist, no moon, no stars. And there’s no chance I’m going to come across a street lamp. I thump on the lid, kick with my feet. I should be able to push it open. I just need to push in the right spot.

“Help!” I scream. And this time it’s muffled by the coffin lining. No one’s going to hear me so I’m going to have to keep trying.

Except someone is here with me. How do I know? Because someone is shovelling earth onto the coffin!

“Stop! Please, I beg you!”

But they either don’t hear or don’t care. The mud and the stones rain down onto the wooden lid, and I’m desperately trying not to cry because I know there’s only so much air. My pulse is thumping; drumming, drumming, and I can’t help but wonder if it is going to get louder before it stops for good.


Submitted: November 28, 2020

© Copyright 2021 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:

Comments

Vance Currie

That, Hully, would probably be my worst nightmare. Just as well it only happens in fiction. Maybe!

Sat, November 28th, 2020 9:21pm

Author
Reply

Thanks so much for giving this a read, Joe.

Sat, November 28th, 2020 1:48pm

Mike S.

Spooky goodness, Hull

Sat, November 28th, 2020 10:16pm

Author
Reply

Thanks so much for reading, Mike.

Sun, November 29th, 2020 11:03am

ratwood2

You captured the mounting terror quite well as the once familiar morphs into the unknown to build to a level of terror at the end.

Sun, November 29th, 2020 3:52pm

Author
Reply

Thanks, ratwood2! Much appreciated.

Sun, November 29th, 2020 11:04am

Mark A George

Buried alive; the ultimate nightmare. Really enjoy how you take these themes and make them new again! Great, Hulla!

Sun, November 29th, 2020 4:59pm

Author
Reply

Thanks so much for giving it a read, Mark. I'm really glad you enjoyed it.

Sun, November 29th, 2020 11:05am

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