I have always considered myself to be a tough guy that
fears little and is not easily spooked. I never really
believed in ghosts until the night my pledge brothers and I
were left behind in a huge, antiquated cemetery as part of a
ritual performed by our brotherhood.
Our mission was to memorize the tombstone of one of the
founding brothers of our fraternity and return to the house.
Our conversation started lightly and kiddingly turned to
ghosts. One of our members asked the rest of us to stop
because he felt uneasy discussing it as we stood in the
middle of "death central" as he put it. The air was cold
and eerie and I began to agree. I wasn't really scared
but the atmosphere demanded reverence.
The leaves had
begun to change color and fall as they do in this corner of
the world at this time. The trees all seemed to bend in
and form an artificial covering over us, the only sound was
the small stream that trickled in the distance. I said
that it reminded me of a ghost story my uncle Jack had told
me many times while growing up.
I began telling the story the best I could but was quickly
stopped and asked to tell it at a more appropriate time. I
laughed and said "What, are you guys scared?" Naturally
none of them were, they just didn't want to hear it. After
we accomplished our mission we set out to leave the
cemetery. We began making our way down the winding path
until it forked a few hundred yards from where we had
started. What to do? We were split 50-50, both certain our
way was the correct one. I suggested that we split up if
we were both so certain and see who made it out first. The
others thought staying together would be better. We
flipped a coin to decide which path we'd take only to have
the coin disappear into a patch of mud. We decided to go
left on a whim and after about an hour or so of arguing we
could hear cars whizzing by on the city streets and the
laughter of children. We had made it
.
Upon returning to the house, we found the brothers laughing
and enjoying themselves without a care in the world. They
were extremely eager to hear us repeat the information. We
did so and were dismissed for the night. My best friend
and I discussed our beliefs about ghosts and the
supernatural on the long walk back to the dorms. He told
me he believed in ghosts and that nothing I said would
shake his confidence. After five minutes or so I gave up.
About a month later we found ourselves back in the
graveyard, this time to obtain a grave rubbing of the
tombstone. My friend held the crayon in his hand and began
the tracing. I kidded him that our founding father didn't
appreciate the fact that he was standing on his grave. I
grabbed his ankle which caused him to scream and he hit my
other friend who held the flashlight, causing him to drop
it. As it hit the ground, the light went out. We stood in
the pitch black making eerie sounds as my friend
frantically searched for the flashlight. I could tell he
was scared. We eventually found the light and struggled
with it as it just kind of flickered on and off.
"What was that?" I asked cautiously. "You're not gonna
scare me" my friend said in a shaky voice. As someone with
the reputation of a prankster, I am not always taken
seriously. The only problem, I wasn't kidding. I heard a
faint metallic clinking off in the distance and was
ridiculously scared.
"Ssssh. Listen" I said.
"Knock it off" my best friend said.
"No. I hear it too" uttered my other friend.
The sound grew louder and louder and for the first time in
my life I was actually scared. I felt the hair on the back
of my neck rise as a shudder run down my spine. In the
distance, I saw a pair of glowing green eyes bouncing as
they headed straight for us. Paralyzed by fear, I watched
as they got closer and closer, unable to warn the others.
My friend turned and said "Hey, I hear it." He spun with
the light in his hand and saw the expression on my
face. "Dude, what's the matter?" Another turned and said
what the hell is that?" By now we were all fixated on the
eyes as they approached. They disappeared for a a few
seconds and then they were suddenly very close.
My friend with the light tried to focus it on the eyes as I
stood motionless. As it got closer we finally realized it
was a man walking a ridiculously large rottweiler. I felt
my limbs regain strength and the mood was lightened. The
man asked us if we were enjoying our late night arts and
crafts and we all muttered an answer. We turned our
attentions back to the grave and the flashlight which was
now properly functioning. As I looked back the man was
gone and the clanking of the dogs chain had subsided. I
looked down at my watch and it was stuck at 2:24. When I
asked what time it was they told me it was quarter after
three. I assumed the battery had conked out and thought
nothing of it.
We finally made our way home and the next morning all had a
good laugh about our scare in the cemetery. I checked my
voicemail and had a message that had been marked "urgent."
I played the message, still in a light mood, and
heard "This is your mother. Call me as soon as you get
this." The second message was from my father. "Your Uncle
Jack is dead. Call us as soon as you get this." My uncle,
who had been an art teacher in an elementary school, had
been mauled to death by a large dog that had "vanished
seemingly into the night air" as the police told us. His
time of death was officially 2:25 am.
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