Week 11: Haunted Cemetery (Storytelling)

I've always been a relatively normal, unsuperstitious person. I’m in my third year of college. Eventually, I want to be a wardrobe and prop designer for movies and TV shows. I was good at making prop weapons. I created an Etsy shop where I make custom designs. It wasn't like I was making a living by making them, but it was some extra spending money and I loved doing it. So, when my friend, Nick came to me, asking for a prop knife, I jumped on the opportunity.

For Halloween, he decided to be some sort kind of killer ghost from a movie. Anyways, he wanted a ‘ghost dagger’ made out of resin then painted to look like some old magical knife. After making the mold, I showed it to him before I started painting it.  Nick had been researching ghost stories in our area. That’s when he came up with a ridiculous bet.

 “I dare you to paint the knife in the haunted graveyard at night,” he said as his eyes sparkled with the challenge.

I scoffed. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. And no, that’s stupid. Why would I want to go to a cemetery at night to paint something I can paint in the comfort of my own apartment?”

“I’ll pay you double if you paint it in the graveyard tonight.” He didn't think I would do it. 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Fine. Get ready to pay up.” He took me to the cemetery and showed me the grave I was supposed to work at. According to an internet source Nick swore was reliable, this spot had the most ghost sightings. I rolled my eyes but agreed.

It was much harder to be sarcastic when you were alone at night with headstones surrounding you. The moon was high overhead as I walked through the quiet cemetery. “I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t believe in ghosts,” I whispered to myself as I moved towards the gravestone that Nick had shown me. The white plastic bag that held my paints, brushes, and the knife swayed in the breeze. 

Finally, I found the headstone marked, James Marcus O’Riley, a man who whose death date was almost a century ago. I took a deep breath before I set down the bag and pulled out my paints for Nick’s ghost knife.

I sank to my knees beside the supplies, leaning against the headstone. My body was tense as my “I don’t believe in ghost” mantra continued to run through my mind. I quickly began painting the knife. I may not believe in ghosts but that doesn't mean I want to spend the whole night in a cemetery.

Suddenly the wind picked up and began swirling leaves around the grave where I sat. My gaze shifted back and forth between the painting job in my hands and scanning my surroundings for movements. I jumped at ever crack of a twig or rustle of a leaf.

Then I saw something moving a few graves down. It was like something coming out of the ground, something translucent. My heartbeat picked up and my hands began to paint faster. I watched a translucent head break the surface of the earth.

In a booming voice it said, “Do you see me? Why have you trespassed this night?”

I stuttered, staring but not believing my eyes. “Yes, I see you. I’m here to paint this… then I’ll be gone.”

Now more of the ghost’s body rose out of the ground as his eyes glared at me. The wind continued to pick up, blowing my hair into my face and sending leaves flying. “Do you see me rising more? Leave this place at once!” His voice continued growing along with the tightening of my chest and the quickness of my breath.

“Yes I see you! But I've got to finish this!” I shrieked in panic. Was an extra thirty bucks worth this? That could be like three meals out. Yes it was. My hands were shaking, slopping the paint a bit. But I kept going, trying to watch the rising ghost and the prop I painted in my hand. I was almost finished. It was much more difficult with the wind slapping my face with hair, grass, and leaves.

Now the ghost was almost completely out of the ground. “Do you see me standing? This is your last warning! Leave now!” I looked down at the knife. Just a couple more seconds and I’d be done.

“Why do you keep asking if I can see you?” I yelled, my voice breaking in panic. “Can you see how much I’m shaking? Obviously I’m terrified of you! But I need money to afford to eat something besides Taco Bell!” My eyes stung, whether from tears of fright or the continual dirt the heavy wind threw into them, I’ll never know. I glanced down. The painting was done and the ghost was completely above ground. I grabbed the knife, trying to keep the still wet paint from smearing. With the knife in one hand, I grabbed all the supplies I could reach in the others and took off. I left some paint bottles behind but I didn't care.

As I ran I heard shouts behind me. Mistakenly I turned around. The ghost was chasing me. I ran as fast as I could through the cemetery. The wind was so intense it obstructed my vision, but finally I saw Nick sitting in his car in the parking lot. I turned one last time; the ghost was getting closer. I yanked open the door breathing hard. “Go! Now!” I screamed. The ghost would catch up in a few seconds.

Nick did as I asked but looked concerned. “Why were you running?” I looked back towards the ghost again. There was nothing. The night air was still. I didn't answer as Nick drove away. I just stared, trying to find any trace of the ghost that I hadn't believed in. 

"Ancient Cemetery" Source

Author's Note: The original story was from the Celtic Fairy Tales called The Sprightly Tailor. In the story a tailor who doesn't believe in ghosts is commissioned to make a wealthy man a pair of shoes. the man says he will pay the man more money if he makes the shoes in a haunted cemetery. The tailor does. As a ghost slowly rises from the ground, the tailor inists that he will leave as soon as he finishes the shoes to claim receive is bigger price. When the ghost fully rises from the ground and the man finishes the ghost chases him away.

For my story I made it a modern day setting and changed the characters and what was being made in the cemetery, but the overall plot stayed the same. I picked this story because I thought it was very fitting for Halloween being later this week.