Posted in Creative WRiting, daily writing prompts, ghosts, graveyard, halloween writing prompts, horror prompts, nano prep, NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, write every day

October Horror Writing Prompt #19 – Graveyard, pt 2.

So, I said that I was going to continue on with my Graveyard prompt. I kept to that promise, though it was a bit odd to figure out how to get my prompt to fit in. I’m picking them at random, so that it’s a challenge for me as well! I can’t wait to see what you all did with this!

Graveyard, pt 2

“Every year, around the day that he died, they say that the gates of hell open here on this cemetery. The land is cursed – it was taken from witches who used to live here. They killed them and tore down their houses…” Alex’s voice was mirroring the tone of Michael’s voice. I saw her cellphone out – she was recording this all. Just great. Incriminating evidence. They really did need me here to make sure that they didn’t get into trouble.

“The witches laid a curse before they died – the worst evil of evils would come back from this land, and the town would pay for what they’d done. And so, every year, Vince Harrow comes back from the dead to continue his killing spree… and tonight,” Michael turned his face to the camera, grinning, “Tonight is the date of his death.” He let out a loud, peeling laugh that caused Alex to scream. I caught her phone as it fell from her frightened fingers, sighing again. This was so stupid. Dead things stayed dead.

Of course, if that were the truth, then why did I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that something awful was about to happen? I hate that they’d brought me here. They thought that my ‘creeper sense’ was just a little hunch. They didn’t realize that there was so much more to it. I’d realized that I could see things when I was six years old. I always thought my cat had a staring problem – She always seemed fixated on my face. One day, I realized that she was always looking just behind me. My curious nature got the best of me, and I started turning around when she stared.

At first, I couldn’t see anything. I had a creepy feeling, but that was about it. The more I looked, however, the more I seemed to be inviting whatever it was that was there to show itself. It sent from a blur in the air, like heat rising off of a hot pavement, to a shadow…. Until finally, I could see that there was a person standing there. A pale man, with dark, haunted eyes. If I hadn’t been working so hard to force myself to be able to see him, I might have screamed.

I didn’t scream though; I just felt a sense of accomplishment that nearly overwhelmed me. Once I noticed that first shadowy figure, I started noticing more. I’d somehow trained my psychic sense to pick up on the dead… and I couldn’t close the door once I’d opened it. It was like some grotesque Pandora’s Box that forced me to see the world for what it really was.

A world of unrequited spirits who still had something to say.

When it had first happened, I called in from school for a week – I faked the worst stomach virus that I’d ever had. It was only after I’d had a little time to adjust that I started learning something new.

I figured out how to ignore them.

There were times when I would try to help them if I could, but I wasn’t going to let the spirits roaming this earth screw with my education. And so, to my friends, I had become the girl who got creepy senses. I always knew when something bad was going to happen, because the spirits seemed to sense it. They would clamor like it was some great party about to happen. I had once saved Michael from getting snatched by what turned out to be a serial child abductor because a swarm of his previous victims screamed and chattered around him.

I didn’t like my little gift most days, but sometimes it came in useful.

As it was, however, I didn’t want to be using it here, in this graveyard. If there was anywhere in this world that I was bound to see more spirits than even I could ignore, it would be here. More than that, even if there was nothing to the fact that this serial killer guy rose and haunted the town, if he was buried here…

I didn’t want anything to do with him. The nasty spirits of the truly evil were my least favorite thing. Though I’d never had a ghost physically harm me, the malicious ones were always more keen to try.

“Ready to go, Kit?” Michael grinned at me, that rakish smile spurring me on when I really wanted to just back out of this whole stupid thing.

I forced myself to grin, flicking my eyes to the gate. I could already see a handful of spirits peeking curiously from their gravestones, as though they could sense that I was coming. They probably could.

“I guess so. My question though… how are we going to get over that gate?” Maybe they didn’t have a plan. Maybe I wouldn’t have to do this after all. God, that would be more lucky than I’d been in a while. As Michael fished into his backpack and pulled out a chain cutter, I groaned. Completely nefarious, these two. Alex was filming again. I was so going to regret this.

There was a loud groan of protest from both the gate and the spirits inside as Michael cut through the chain and let it fall to the ground. They didn’t like having their resting place violated any more than I liked going in there. I said a mental ‘I’m sorry’, knowing that they couldn’t hear me, and followed my two friends as they made their way inside. I was the only one smart enough to close the gate behind us, rearranging the chain so that it at least looked like it was still closed. I knew that a security patrol ran through here. Though they were lax, they’d probably notice an open gate.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” My voice was a bit petulant. I wanted out of here. My stomach was twisting in knots, and the ghosts that stood in front of their tombstones looked at me with dark, haunted eyes. They knew something that I didn’t.

I always wondered what caused a person’s spirit to linger. Sometimes it was just an impression – a figure doing the same thing over and over, as though the very motion of it happened so many times that they left it behind. Sometimes, it was pure emotion. Anger, hatred, sadness… and then there were times when it was a full manifestation of what I could only imagine was the person’s essence. Those were the ones I was curious about. Was there really something to that whole ‘unfinished business’ thing that everyone went on about?

I didn’t know.

“It’s at the back of the graveyard. Come on, Kitty.” Michael purred my name, “Don’t be afraid.”

Alex just glared at me.

So, I hope that you enjoyed the prompt, and I will continue with this story tomorrow, come what may! Until then!

Author Amanda McCormick
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