Graveyard, Part 1
I cocked my head to one side and listened hard. There it was again. A rustle in the leaves lying on the ground. Probably a mouse, I told myself. Must be a mouse. Or a rat. At worst it was going to be a fox. Nothing to be scared of at all.
Realising that my intense listening wasn’t helping my nerves, I shook myself and began to hum, drowning out the small noises in the dark around me.
I’m a bloody idiot. I thought to myself as I padded softly around the graveyard. A bloody mad, raving idiot, who thinks she’s invincible. What am I even doing here?
But I knew perfectly well why I was here. I was here because I didn’t know when to stop. I didn’t know when to say no. So someone had dared me to come out here in the middle of the night – the dratted boy wasn’t even here to check I was doing it. I could have stayed in my room and lied when he asked. I could have simply told him ‘to hell with standing in a graveyard all night, I’ve got better things to do with my time’. I could have been sensible.
But when am I ever sensible? Did I even think to bring a torch? Or a waterproof coat in case it rains? Or an apple for when I got hungry? No, no, and no. There’s water leaking into my shoes because the soles are coming off my trainers, and there must be bats living in these trees, because I’m sure I’ve felt them fly past. I’m cold, tired, and as jumpy as a cat in a kennel, and yet I’m still here! Why don’t I just go home?
A stick snapped under foot, and I flinched. Then I swore, and stamped off further into the eerily-looming sepulchral stones.
Look at that gravestone over there. I know it’s an angel with its wings out, but from this angle it looks like a twisted gargoyle reaching out with a clawed hand. And now I’ve really freaked myself out, but I’m still looking for faces in the shadows, and familiar shapes in the trees. There’s something that looks like a man peering out from around a tree trunk, although maybe that’s just my eyes, because now I’ve blinked he’s not there any more. But if I squint, I can make him come back. Good god, stop doing that! It’s worse than listening for noises. Feel your heart – can you feel that, you idiot girl? I’ve never felt it beat that hard. I’ll just look down at my feet, because at least I know what they are, and why they’re moving. And maybe if I can assert any control over the idiot in charge of my body, I’ll turn my feet around and walk back home. It’s only just gone one o’clock – I can still get a half decent night’s sleep before morning.
Creeeeeeaaaaaaakkkkkkk.
I shrieked, spinning to find the source of the noise. Everything was silent again, but the echo of the noise rang in my ears. I tried not to compare it to a coffin creaking open, and failed.
“Alright.” I said aloud, speaking to the graveyard at large. “Okay, you’ve won. I’m beaten, I admit it. I’ll go home, and never come back. Come on, stupid feet. You brought me up here, you can damn well take me home again. I’m going. See? No need to make any more shit-scary noises.”
I almost ran back down the path towards the exit, stopping only when I turned my ankle on an uneven cobble and crashed to my knees.
Swearing even louder, I eased myself onto my backside and pulled my foot gently towards me. Damn, that hurt. I should have remembered this path wasn’t maintained any more.
Yes, I should have done. I thought angrily. And now look at me. Knowing my luck, I’ll have broken a bone, and won’t be able to walk out of here. And I bet I can’t get any signal up here to call for help.
Well, your ankle doesn’t hurt that much. It’s probably only sprained. Maybe if you can find a long stick around here, you can hobble back home. You won’t know unless you try.
I grumbled, but slowly got up and tested my weight on my foot. It hurt like hell, but I could still walk on it. A stick would help certainly, but how was I going to find one in the dark? I could hurt myself even more, scrambling around in the undergrowth…
Very slowly, the realisation that something was wrong stole over me, and even my thoughts stopped as I looked around and listened hard.
Just find a stick and get out of here. Look, there’s one over there, at the edge of the path. Just grab it and go. No point hanging around here all night.
There was a stick, amazingly enough. It was long enough, thick enough to take my weight – as long as it wasn’t rotten – and was even within my reach. All I had to do was lean over and pick it up.
But something was still wrong. The graveyard was completely silent now, without even the creak of the trees in the breeze. In fact, the breeze had died down. There were no owl calls, or dampened rustlings of mice in the leaves. It felt like the world had taken a deep breath, and was waiting to see what happened next.
Just pick up the damn stick and go.
And the answer came to me, as that thought drifted through my mind. I don’t know how I knew, and I sure as hell couldn’t explain it to anyone else, but I knew the thought I had just had wasn’t my thought. It was a voice in my head, but it wasn’t my voice. I knew my voice. I knew the shape of my thoughts. It was something else.
“That’s crazy.” I told myself sternly. A voice in my head? It was just my imagination playing tricks on me – I was scared half to death, but my mind doesn’t like half-measures, so it was trying to finish the job.
Of course it’s crazy. Now just pick up the stick and hobble out of here. There’s a cup of hot chocolate and a warm duvet with your name on at home. It would be rude to keep them waiting.
I tested my ankle again, and winced. But the pain was easing up, and I knew it would hurt less once I was walking on it. What with the ground being so uneven, using that stick as a makeshift crutch would probably just slow me down. I took an experimental step, then another, and breathed a bit easier. This was going to be okay. I could get home without help.
A colossal crack boomed above my head, and I looked up just in time to see the branch of a tree peeling away from the trunk above me. Almost in slow motion, it began to fall, and I threw myself backwards, screaming.
Twigs scraped at me as the branch landed with a crash. Mindless of the gravel that dug into my palms, I dragged myself backwards as the branch rolled towards me, rocked back again, then settled. I stared at it, breathing hard, making sure it had stopped moving. Once my heart had calmed to the point where I could feel the individual beats, I shook myself and sat up.
This was not funny. First my ankle, now this? That branch had almost killed me! Why had it chosen that moment to break off?
My hands were throbbing and threatening pain, although at the moment they were still numb, but as I took my weight off them and moved them to check the damage, my right hand brushed against something. There was a clack, and the stick I had noticed before rolled towards me.
Now, I wouldn’t say I have the most vivid imagination in the world, but there are times when even the dullest mind makes connections that don’t really exist, and I was certain the stick had been too far away for me to hit accidentally. I stared at it, paranoid, then grabbed it and threw it into the leaves of the branch in front of me. It clattered as it hit, and I saw it drop down through the leaves and disappear.
Now what are you going to do? Thought the thing in my head that wasn’t me. You needed that stick to support your weight. You’ll never get out of here without it.
“Shut up.” I muttered, dusting my hands off and standing up. There were small, sharp bits of gravel stuck deep into my palms, and I knew I’d see blood if there was enough light, but I didn’t care right now. I’d just climb around the branch – it only blocked the path, so I could negotiate the gaps between the graves to reach the other side – and get to the exit as fast as I could with a dodgy foot and little arrows of pain beginning to shoot up my arms. At least the falling branch had done one thing – I wasn’t afraid any more. The worst had happened, and now I could deal with it. It gave me a purpose.
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