Midnight In The Graveyard (standard:Ghost stories, 564 words)
Author: Walker	Added: Feb 19 2007	Views/Reads: 3943/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
this describes the encounter of the wandering author with a ghost on a windy, rainy night.

The night has started squeaking as I walk along the long and lonesome
highway. Alone in this moonless hour, the mind starts wandering (as it 
always does); starts to think about the unnatural and satanic beings. 
An owl hoots at a distance, the same old cliché, and my cloak starts to 
get heavy as raindrops begin to soak up the night. The wind is howling 
and the unseen nightlife starts to evade this walking, unknown to them, 
figure. Then a lay-by attracts my attention and a hope rises from 
within that there might be some place to rest and the truth of this is 
confirmed by a fainting light hanging at a doorway. As I come closer 
the doorway clears into a grilled gate which is the entrance of a 
graveyard so notorious. A chill runs down my spine but the heavy 
downpour forces me to enter into this place of the damned. I open the 
rusty gate which makes an eerie sound as it gives way for me to enter 
into this spooky place where every tombstone has a story of its own 
engraved on it. The white graves, the slushy pathway all make it 
difficult for me to walk up to the now coughing, ready to blow out any 
time, lantern. The room is dark and dingy and the cobwebs hang all over 
the place but the lantern provides enough light for me to walk up to 
the fireplace where a few logs lie, half wet. I take out a lighter from 
my pocket and try to light one but it just gives a sigh and dies out. 
Then the gas in the lantern helps. In a moment the fireplace is burning 
red. I take my cloak and hang it out to dry and sit beside the fire 
smoking a cigarette and drying myself. Suddenly footsteps are heard and 
that heavy sound clearly indicates that it is coming toward me. I am 
exhausted and this sound is totally unwelcome but still I am not the 
one who can do anything about it. The shadow grows larger and a man 
enters the room drenched with rainwater. I think of him to be somebody 
like me. 

“Are you a traveler?” “No, I stay here.” “Then you must be the caretaker
or the watchman.” We start to talk about various things like this 
unseasoned rain and how I got caught up at a place like this. After a 
while I just glance at my watch and see that it is nearly 0300hrs in 
the night and the rain has slowed down and I am pretty dry. “I think I 
should move now.” “Take care, the ground is slushy and there is a well 
with a low wall. Don't fall into it. I won't be able to help because I 
can't swim.” The man was smiling. The smile makes me uneasy. The man 
turns around and starts walking toward the door. “Excuse me...” At this 
he starts laughing... laughing that sounds like screams of a dying man. 
So scary is the feeling that I can talk no more. Rooted to one spot, I 
just see him walk into the well. Scared to the bone I walk up to the 
well and peep inside. A shrieking bat flies out into the trees and my 
words ‘excuse me' are audible all over. I run screaming into the night. 



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