Mystery in the Graveyard

I was combing through my old stuff when I came across this adorable little gem. It's a short story I wrote by pen when I was only ten years-old about a girl in a graveyard, a perfect spooky story. So in the spirit of Halloween I thought I'd share it here. I debated whether I should edit this story or not, but ultimately decided to post this story as-is to honor my ten year-old self, including all misspellings. Everything is written from the original. Anything in brackets; however, I changed for either affect, or for legibility. Except for the name of the cemetery, which I changed to Darkwood because the original name was rather unfortunate (hint, it began with the word "Stiff" rather than "Dark"). I also used a different pen name back then, and have opted to use the old one of this piece instead of my current one. Both out of further respect to my younger self and to show that this story is certainly in no way a reflection of my current work. 

Mystery In The Graveyard
October 31, 2004
S.K. Regan

Chapter 1:

A lone howl echoed under the massive glowing full moon, partly hidden behind a tree whose branches were swaying in the wind, when the moon disappeared into a thick mist of clouds.

The night became pitch black and a lonely scared dog barked into the darkness.

Finnaly silence fell over the town called “[Dreading] County”.

Then in the pitch blackness—no moon, no sound, in the pit of nothing—someone, or something, ran into the town’s grave yard in a flash stopping ever brefly at a grave leaving a black rose on the ground before dissappearing.

The wind let out a howl against the trees, then all at once the heavy mist dissappeared too and the moon came back.

Dreading County was sound asleep, except for one house separate from all the other houses, where a light came on. A shadow figure could be seen walking in front of the covered windows. No, not walking. Floating. Was it the same figure running through the graveyard?

If anyone had been awake in the town, they would have seen it. And they would have had questions.

By the time the light turned off and the figure either vanished or went to bed, the sky was filled with red, orenges, purples, greens, blues, and pinks.

The sky was linned with a sureall rainbow pattern from the moon going down and the sun coming up. 

The morning had struck like lightning on a stormy day when a peircing scream wipped through the sky and spread around the town like a blanket.

The scream seemed to come from the two billion year old grave yard where the shadow figure in the yard had appeared and dissappeared. 

Some people loved and some people hated the old yard but one little girl loved this grave yard, and she would walk to it every night with a lantern in hand, her blonde curls getting wet in the mist. But last night she fell asleap in her cabin listening to the crackling fire and never got to visit her buried friend in the night. 

Fifteen year old Samantha Varner went first thing that morning after writing a letter first to her mother who was asleap in the other room. The other was to her burried friend. It was Samantha’s tradition to write a letter then seal it in plastic and cary it to Dreading County’s one and only Darkwood Cemetry.

Samantha walked down the mossy rocky path from her cabin searching for a large rock on her way as she always did when she went to Darkwood. She found a hand-sized blue-green rock off to the side of the overly grown path and took it. She would use it to keep her letter in place.

There were many letters hidden in plastic under rocks at her friend’s tombstone when she got there, all from Samantha. As she put her new letter down under the rock she held her hand on the rough unpolished grave [marker]. “Hi, Mac,” she whispered into the air. She was going to say something else but her attention found its way to the black rose sitting on the ground at the foot of the tombstone.

Samantha knew she didn’t put it there.

So who—or what—did?

Before she left the Darkwood Cemetry Samantha promised she would return in the night to find out who left the rose with her friend and dissappeared.

🎃 🎃 🎃

That night Samantha sat on the dock at her cabin watching the sun set. Once it did a street lamp hanging over the dock turned on making everything turn a dim eery glowing orange color. In the light mist swerved, right to left, looking for something, but yet, not sure what it was looking for.

Then a ghostly misty figure stood hovering over the water. “Cold,” it called out. “I’m cold.”

The lake began to freaze and Samantha could see her breath in the light coming out in foggy puffs as a white snowflake, looking like a puzzle peice falling to the ground, looked up and shivered before it landed. It was definatly winter time, but two seconds ago it was summer in Dreading County! How could it possibly be winter?

“Where am I?” the misty ghostly figure asked with an echoy whisper that carried over the freezing cracking river. “Where is here?”

Green plants were everywhere around Samantha but snow was still falling! And the mosquitoes were still buzzing. And to top that off, it was surprizingly warm for snow. Maybe it wasn’t reall snow?!

Samantha tipped her finger onto the freshly fallen snow and li[c]ked it. The taste reminded her of when her friend Mac dared her to li[c]k her pencil when they were eight. That’s how she knew it wasn’t snow. It was ash! Then she smelld the smoek.

Samantha run around to the other side of the cabin where she saw her mother lighting a fire ready to roast marshmellows. She smiled at Samantha and lifted up a burning marshmellow. “You want one?”

Samantha looked back at the lake. Gone was the ghost and the snow and the frozen water. Summer was back again as it was supposed to be. Samantha turned back to her mother and made herself smile and nod. “Yes, but not one that burnt.” She pointed at the black marshmellow and her mother tossed it into the campfire.

“I’ll let the fire have that one,” she said and laughed as Samantha joined her on a log.

But Samantha couldn’t help but wonder what she had seen on the lake. But she did not say anything and made herself forget as she ate and roasted marshmellows with her mother.

Chapter 2:

Samantha didn't know it, but several figures were narrowing in on her as fog lifted off the lake.

TO BE CONTINUED...?

© 2004 Sabrina Regan