bforbestu-stake

username: bforbestu

Username: bforbestu

I don’t know what possessed us to bring a picnic basket to a cemetery at midnight. A stupid dare, adrenaline, maybe the thrill of pretending we weren’t just terrified kids in adult bodies. My friends joked as we picked a spot beneath a crooked angel statue, its stone wings cracked like something had tried to tear them off long ago. The night was colder than it should’ve been. Still air layered with the sweet rot of old flowers and damp earth. We set down our blanket, lit a small lantern, and tried to laugh loud enough to drown out how alone we really were. It started with footsteps. Soft. Shuffling. Dragging through leaves just beyond the reach of the lantern’s glow. We all froze. I whispered that it was probably a raccoon — anything human-shaped was too terrifying to consider. Then came the whisper. Not from one direction — but everywhere. Like the darkness itself exhaled words into our ears. None of us could make them out clearly, but they slithered between us, as though something unseen brushed past our shoulders. The lantern flickered. And then it went out. I swear I didn’t scream. At least, not first. A cold hand — ice, bone, real — brushed against my wrist. Not reaching. Just… reminding me it was there. Right beside me in the dark.In the frantic scramble that followed, someone fell. Someone cried. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I ran until the iron cemetery gates slammed behind us and morning dew clung to my shaking hands. We never found anything when we returned in daylight. Not our lantern, not our basket — not even footprints where we swore we stood. But sometimes, late at night, when the world is quiet and I’m honest with myself, I can still feel that cold hand around my wrist.Like it’s still waiting.

stake: bforbestu My Halloween costume was a bit boring, so i edited a bit to make it scarier. Hope it was not against the rules.