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A reminder to all to stay clear of a final resting place
As the sky changed its hue to a marvelous view, you can’t help but ponder the land o’er yonder as the stone markers’ shadows all fade. And as the day’s end gets nearer it couldn’t be clearer that the townspeople’s fears all reside in this yard of graves.

The spirits, some say, come out at the end o' day and if you happen to be near them they’ll make you their prey.
Sounds silly, it’s true, but if you honestly knew the horrors that unfold you’d change your view. By day it is empty, occupied by the dead. But by nightfall the sights could fill you with fright and with dread.

The caskets all rattle like the sounds of a battle and moans echo off of the stone. The shadowy figures twisted and withered walk as they please through the sacred ground. The trees dead and stiff begin to drift ‘cause of the bellowing winds of the town. The graves feel alive as they seem to strive to pull trespassers in without a fight. the moon in turn seems to yearn to glow passed the clowds its silvery light.

Though some think they’re brave, they run from the graves when they see the souls that cannot be saved. But still some ego-driven become quite livid with these supposed tales and follow the trails to their own fate. Some come back screaming, some think they’re dreaming and some simply are found lying dead by the lake.
So remember the graveyard, think and think hard before you give your final say. It could be the wind, an animal looking for kin. But listen up well if with fright you don't do well: never go to the graveyard after the end of the day.
© Copyright 2010 Nana Michiko (barbecuemuffin at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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