Beleive it or not, this is true. Tell me if you think i should put it under fiction anyway. 
With the ending, its a little sunday afternoon special-ish- but read it anyway. It should rele be file thirteen, but I would miss the opputunity to tell you it was true. Heehee
GHOST IN THE GRAVEYARD
Crisp night air rasps quickly through my lungs. Wind thunders past my face. My feet thud loudly as they strike the ground, and I hear vines ripping at my clothes. Mud splatters sickly beneath my feet. A wind whistles, carrying on it the babbling of the creek. My hair is flung back in the gale; my eyes wide with the romp. Crickets make their song a dark and grueling noise as the voices of the hunters count off in the distance, “One o’ clocka, two o’ clocka, three o’ clocka rock!” My legs tense painfully beneath my weight as I drop to crouch among the thick weeds. Dew clings to my face. Shivering in the frigid midnight wind, I lick my chapped lips. A wolf’s howl in the distance sets the game afoot.
My breath quickens as I steel my nerves against the dread. I can hear the hunters coming for me now. Some cackle wildly with the inhuman calls of the undead. Others cling close to their companions, pale with terror, but pressing on in spite of their fears. Striding through the muck and the weeds, they call out, but I do not answer. This night is mine. They do not know the fear I can show them.
Urges pound within me. “Vengeance for this mockery!” my soul demands, but the time is not right. Still closer they near. Their brave leader convulses wildly as he calls for my soul. Long black hair swings in his passion, his smooth pale face blazing with the fear.
Suddenly his eyes catch mine through the shrubbery, and he leaps back in fear. “Ghost in the graveyard!”
I leap into the madness, my shrieks joining theirs. As they flee for safety, I madly chase my vengeance. Every step they take, I block with my return. Their frantic cries and gasping pleas fall on deaf ears. This ghost’s revenge can not be turned.
Now I see their leader, fallen in the weeds. I turn from the others, and they flee like mad. The leader jumps to his feet. My stony gaze meets his. Enmity is thick in the air. Grass sways in the wind, and a brook babbles in the distance. The night grows colder and so do our stares. “I will not be mocked,” I rasp, letting out a shriek. Valor dies to terror, and he turns to flee, but I catch his hand.
“No!” he mouths, eyes wide with dread. Smiling, I deal out his death.
Stepping from the shadows, I can hear his shrieks and cries. A new ghost has been made, and I am restored. I see the hunters, and they eye me. Softly, I say his name. Without a word, they nod and accept his fate. As I join their number, I look at their faces and they return my gaze. The time has come again. Now, as we all whisper, “Another ghost we hunt tonight.” Once more, the wolf howls and the game is set afoot.
Long into the hours we continue the deadly escapade, until a bell tolls in the distance. All rise together. Ghost and hunter, child and child, friend and friend, we run to supper.
With the ending, its a little sunday afternoon special-ish- but read it anyway. It should rele be file thirteen, but I would miss the opputunity to tell you it was true. HeeheeGHOST IN THE GRAVEYARD
Crisp night air rasps quickly through my lungs. Wind thunders past my face. My feet thud loudly as they strike the ground, and I hear vines ripping at my clothes. Mud splatters sickly beneath my feet. A wind whistles, carrying on it the babbling of the creek. My hair is flung back in the gale; my eyes wide with the romp. Crickets make their song a dark and grueling noise as the voices of the hunters count off in the distance, “One o’ clocka, two o’ clocka, three o’ clocka rock!” My legs tense painfully beneath my weight as I drop to crouch among the thick weeds. Dew clings to my face. Shivering in the frigid midnight wind, I lick my chapped lips. A wolf’s howl in the distance sets the game afoot.
My breath quickens as I steel my nerves against the dread. I can hear the hunters coming for me now. Some cackle wildly with the inhuman calls of the undead. Others cling close to their companions, pale with terror, but pressing on in spite of their fears. Striding through the muck and the weeds, they call out, but I do not answer. This night is mine. They do not know the fear I can show them.
Urges pound within me. “Vengeance for this mockery!” my soul demands, but the time is not right. Still closer they near. Their brave leader convulses wildly as he calls for my soul. Long black hair swings in his passion, his smooth pale face blazing with the fear.
Suddenly his eyes catch mine through the shrubbery, and he leaps back in fear. “Ghost in the graveyard!”
I leap into the madness, my shrieks joining theirs. As they flee for safety, I madly chase my vengeance. Every step they take, I block with my return. Their frantic cries and gasping pleas fall on deaf ears. This ghost’s revenge can not be turned.
Now I see their leader, fallen in the weeds. I turn from the others, and they flee like mad. The leader jumps to his feet. My stony gaze meets his. Enmity is thick in the air. Grass sways in the wind, and a brook babbles in the distance. The night grows colder and so do our stares. “I will not be mocked,” I rasp, letting out a shriek. Valor dies to terror, and he turns to flee, but I catch his hand.
“No!” he mouths, eyes wide with dread. Smiling, I deal out his death.
Stepping from the shadows, I can hear his shrieks and cries. A new ghost has been made, and I am restored. I see the hunters, and they eye me. Softly, I say his name. Without a word, they nod and accept his fate. As I join their number, I look at their faces and they return my gaze. The time has come again. Now, as we all whisper, “Another ghost we hunt tonight.” Once more, the wolf howls and the game is set afoot.
Long into the hours we continue the deadly escapade, until a bell tolls in the distance. All rise together. Ghost and hunter, child and child, friend and friend, we run to supper.
