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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2236251-GRAVEYARD-INDIGESTION-TO-HAUNTED-HOUSE
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2236251
Do you dare enter: WEIRD TAILS CONTEST 7/2017
Laying upon the gravestones cooled us off. Thunder and lightning roared and flashed as the storm approached. Lanterns gave light showing ill-maintained acres of burial plots, some mouths wide open waiting for the crude boxes to be lowered and others mounded with dirt which would sink as the storm drove it down to where it had been extracted.

Wearing green gobs of moss, mold, and smears of leaf and bug debris, the crypt stood alone. Dank and musty, crumbling and flaking, and showing rust creeping from the iron railing into the walls reminded me of the old house where the murders were brutally and torturously enjoyed by the local corner and his assistant.

Rumor and speculation are that the perpetrators vanished. The house remains empty. Stories abound according to different opinions as to the why and what of the horror. Whispers of treasure mixed with fear of reprisals from the spirits that many say roam around retards efforts of investigation and treasure hunting.

The hooting owl jolted me out of my daydream. A bat swoops down for a drink of blood off the cattle in the field adjacent to the graveyard. My friend snores away oblivious of reality. Shrieking, moaning, whales, and other odd noises emit from behind the crypt and…no-oo…it’s…it’s…from…the…hou…se. Bumping and banging emphasized by metal clanging bring cold shivers and tremors racing through me. My friend startles glancing around in a daze. Shadows dance in the wind. Figures dash and fly toward us, the ground shakes and quivers, and we are expelled from the graveyard into the open mouth of the house.

Hunched together in a corner we can cut the tension with a plastic knife. Believing this is a dream we watch the gathering of figures who are missing various body parts, blood-stained, smelling of decay, and the stench of rodent, canid, and felid excrement and micturition. My nose wrinkles, I cringe, and my friend wretches and squirms. The sight is fast and furious, terrifying, and enough to make me feel like I was going to be chopped into minuscule pieces. Frozen in place we could hear horrible sounds, smell the smell of death, see everything in fast forward yet vividly, and feel numb yet cold, terrified, and foreboding as the taste of stale and dirty air invaded our lungs. Cooling off from the heat upon the gravestones became a longing even when a severe storm was headed this way.

As scary as the graveyard had become, I prefer it rather than the haunted house. Visions of figures carving body parts while the victims squirm play in front of my eyelike a movie. Screams of terror and pain wrap around my head pummeling and permeating my eardrums. Trepidation and forbidding, anger and disgust, and vehemence of other emotions intruded upon me, and my senses heightened and alert taking in the reality that we may soon join this party. I would have rather been swallowed by the graveyard.

493 WORDS

Prompt for October/ THE GRAVEYARD


2930 characters, 493 words. Readability level: college student.
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