Dark is the Night

Dark is the night. Crickets chirped, and Cicadas thrummed as sixteen-year-old Sue dropped from the window to the ground. Running late to meet her boyfriend, George, she chose to cross the ancient Wild Oak Cemetery. Her cell light illuminated a green-tinged sign at the arched gate.

For those who enter

These hallowed gates.

Respect the dead

Or learn your fate.

Smirking at the attempt to dissuade teens from partying, she forged ahead.

Moss-laden Oak trees swayed and shifted between the shadows her flashlight cast. Scents of honeysuckle tickled her nose. "My fate is to meet my date," she said, laughing at her rhyme.

A cold breeze drifted through the graveyard and sniffed her skimpy outfit. The flowery fragrances became that of decayed flesh, and she gagged. The phone battery chirped, and her cell phone became one with her surroundings and died.

Dark is the night alone with the one-hundred-year-old dead. Afraid, she meandered forward. Spider webs and mystic fingerings of swaying moss clung to her face like tongues of the dead tasting life.

Moans from the dark cried, "Respect." Sue whimpered, "I'm sorry," and pee ran down her thighs.

Headlight beams flashed from her right, and she laughed, relieved.

"Thank you, George," she said, left the path, and ran across the dead towards the light.

On the thirteenth step, her Nike's sank through the sod up to her knees. Bony hands grappled her legs and yanked her from the world into theirs.

Dark is the night.