Did you catch Monday's feature? Have you read Krista's story? Raven1 said it wasn't spooky... but like many of Krista's readers, thinks her writing itself is enthralling. Is it her characters? The way she writes the scenes? What do you think? Read on and decide? (and share your thoughts!!) 

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“Shut up,” I groaned, reading the grave we stood at. My relative was married, they were buried together. She died first, but he followed two years later and I had to count up on my fingers how old they were when they died.

“Sixty four and seventy two,” Kaelie said just before I got through the woman’s age and was still a year off. I knew better than to check Kaelie’s math though, she was going into mathematics for college and was the only reason I averaged a wimpy B in every math class I took.

“Do any of the names stand out?” I asked, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Kaelie look up, about to answer. I was looking at the ghost though and when he shook his head he left to continue his search.

“There has to be about two hundred graves here,” Kaelie said and I looked around trying to find any sort of hint or difference. Some of them looked older, some had chips and pieces missing. Some were just names on a squared off smaller stone like the Witch’s back at her clearing. The graveyard didn’t look as large when we approached it, but I had mostly focused on the massive tree that partially shaded the place.

“Just look around for a man that lived to be about eighteen,” I said as I grabbed my phone to use it as a calculator so that I wouldn’t have to think. “I’ll start on the bottom and work my way up, we’ll meet in the middle, look for a name that starts with an e.”

“Back then people died young all the time,” Kaelie said wrinkling her nose. “They thought bloodletting was a cure all.”

“I remember blood,” the ghost said as he hovered past me as I walked down to the lower left corner of the graveyard to start.

“Where?” I asked as he checked the names on the grave before looking up at me. In the shade of the oak and the less intense light of the fading afternoon sun, he was easier to see.

“On the stone,” he said, cocking his head as he shrugged and moved to check another grave.

“Do you think you died at that stone?” I asked as I made my way to the first grave. It was a woman so I moved along.

“I did die there,” he answered as he came to hover on my left side.

“Thirty years old,” I said as I glanced up at him. “Do you think you were thirty?”

“I can’t remember,” he said after he flashed in and out of focus for a few moments. “I’m getting tired, I may not be here much longer.”

“We’ll stay an hour or so,” I said as I looked down at the next grave I came to. Seeing that the name didn’t start with an e, I moved on down to the next. I knew I was placing a lot of trust on a ghost that didn’t remember a lot about himself. He had repeated the e and that’s all I had to go on. The next one in the row was a married couple by the last name of Claxton, next to it was a young girl’s name Agatha with the same last name. I watched him attempt to put his hand on her grave, a flash of sadness crossed his face before he gave up on touching the stone and moved along. Doing the math in my head, the girl was only six years old when she died.

 

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