The Old Haunted Graveyard (standard:Ghost stories, 1468 words)
Author: stanley mcqueen kentucky backwoods writer	Added: Apr 30 2007	Views/Reads: 3829/2380	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
ghost in the backwoods

the old haunted graveyard Backwood writer stanley mcqueen The backwood
of kentucky in early days before modern times come when giant trees 
adorned the the ridges , went men worked by the sweat of the brow, when 
all you would see back then was a wagon road that lead over the rought 
country side, just  a few old rough shacks set along the ridges and 
some few and far between. this story takes us to a man called Flint 
Baker he and his wife lived deep inside the backwood of kentucky, back 
then corn was about the only thing people grew for money and is was a 
hard way especially when you had to plow with a mule and the ground was 
rocky and steep, and that was what Flint and his wife did  they grew 
corn to sell in the fall , and they grew all their food... Flint and 
his wife both grew up in this country,and like   their Fathers before 
them they had learned to love this rough way of life, so now begins my 
tale.. it was on monday that  a   man who lived about two miles from 
Flints shack come wanting a few days work from Flint , the old man name 
was Dan westerfield he owned a pretty good land track, and had a few 
cattle grazeing on what acres he has cleared , his fences has gotten 
pretty rotten and he was getting up in years, and needed a younger man 
like Flint to help , so Flint hired on and walked the two miles to get 
there by foot , Flint and the old gent had mended fences all day and it 
got late and Flint new he would have to  walk the two miles home with 
only a coal oil lantern as his light..Flint had heared many stories 
about the old graveyard that was beside the old wagon path the very 
path that he had to follow to  his shack. it was a scarey looking place 
even in the day time , it was and old graveyard it had been there many 
years and it was nearly grew over with all kinds of vines and many of 
the markers was leaning from age and storm that had hit the mountains 
in time passed ages..darkness in the backwood timber country is scarey, 
the mountain are no place to be walking  alone, Flint being thirty 
years old and strong, he knew he dreaded passing the old graveyard, 
memories of his grandma tales, come back to his mind, as he walked by 
the light of his lantern, the old story she told of the haunt of the 
old burying place was awful  to think about , she told him that the 
graveyard was filled with demon spirits the kind of spirit that would 
scare  a late night walker.. flint was thinking of all kinds of scarey 
forms that might come swooping maybe out of the darken  trees that he 
was walking under, what was out here in the night, what lurks in the 
night, to seek out someone walking in this remote woodland,. the deep 
hollows he was passing were darker than the highridges they worried him 
the shadows of the night and the flicker of his light was making him 
uneasy .. something was watching him he could feel the eyes of the 
night, stareing from the woods, the smell of fear was in his nostrils 
...how could fate have gotten him walking, why did the darkness catch 
him and have him having to walk two miles to  his shack , if he had 
worked harder that day maybe him and old man Dan would have gotten 
threw earlyer, and he would not be in such a terriable mess, knowing 
that up ahead of him was the worst to come the old graveyard he had 
feared all his life now was  going to be maybe his fate ...what haunt 
would be his folly which of grandma old ghost would prove her right he 
wondered and walked a little faster... he thought maybe if i could go 
around the old graveyard and bypass the old place of the dead , but he 
could not... because of the steep snake laden ridges that joined the 
old graveyard , he wasn.t about to take the bluff regions, the short 
cut was not and option it was a have too thing on his part no way 
around the old place of the dead,.. on and old tree that grandma said a 
fellow was hung by his neck till he died , a man  hung the man for 
stealing whiskey ..grandma said that after that on certain seasons 
blood would run down the limbs of the oak tree he was hung on and she 
said his ghost roams the woods looking for his head that the men cut 
off and threw it off a bluff someone in the woods....    all the 
stories he hadn,t thought of in years was comeing back plain again that 
he had heared so many times around the winter fire places back then 
when he was a child...and then the story she told about the little baby 
that had died when it was very young and was buried there , that on 
cloudless warm summer nights it can  be heared at a certain seasons 
crying inside the ground  of the graveyard...this give him the creeps 
the sobs of a baby crying and no baby in the woods alive, but one could 
hear the crying his grandma said ,,flint wondered about spirits would 
they kill a man or scare a man to death, this trouble his mind as he 
walked ... he wished he had brought his rifle but what good is a rifle 
in killing spirits he pondered in his thoughts...would his neigbors 
stumble across his dead corpse after his insides had been tore out and 
scattered along the woodland, would they find his after many days , for 
few people lived along these ridges in the first place...or would he be 
so mangled and torn that the   varmits would eat his remains and he 


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