Cemetery: by Whitney Bean
On October 31, on a full moon,
I am doing something no other kid would dare to do.
I am walking through the cemetery.
The dark night has chilled my very bone marrow.
All is quiet-
Until a wolf howls into the night,
Sending shivers up and down my spine.
The wind begins blowing about,
Sending dead leaves into my face,
Uncovering gravestones.
In the wind, I can clearly hear voices,
"Get out!"
Without hesitating another minute,
I run.
As fast as I can without stopping to look back,
Until I get home.
When I arrive home,
I collapse onto my bed,
My chest stinging, and my sides hurting,
As though someone had stabbed me with
A white-hot knife.
The next day I return
To the very place I was the night before.
It is a bright sunny day.
There are people visiting deceased loved ones everywhere.
There is no sign of wind.
All is quiet.
Until a dog barks,
And the wind blows.