BY: Dreamgurl. PLEASE R/R
*This story has been told every Halloween. You might have heard it. I hope you have not.*

It was dead winter. The snow bit at his nose. He sat on the head of the tombstone... the place he had visited for almost a week. He stayed almost half the day. It had been a week since she died... COuld it be that long? It felt like an eternity.
The love of his Life was taken from him... ripped from his arms. Without a 'Good-Bye' she was taken... No longer can he caress her, hold her tight. She was now underneath the earth.. rotting away. How could Life be so cruel? How can it play emotions like a game, and expect the loser to bounce back?
It's going to snow soon, he thought to himself. Clouds huddled in the Horizon, making the sky look ashy grey. He stared at the tombstone. It read:
Sheila Romeni
Born 1 980-2001
A daughter and love
" Taken so young... all because of the FLU"
A spider crawled among the tombstone. He checked his watch.. it read 11:50. Soon, he would leave and arrive early in the morning the next day. He cried himself to sleep... every time he closed his eyes he pictured the last night he saw her.
She lay in bed, her face deadly pale. She could not smile nor frown. Tears soaked her cheeks.
"SHE SHOULD'VE TOLD ME SHE WAS DYING!" he screamed, closing his eyes again to remember the image.
She said she felt cold. She kept coughing. She was sick... very sick. It seemed she wasn't getting any better. He never lost hope. Love for her kept him alive. She had the FLU, the Doctor said because she was outside in the cold weather. The medicine wasn't working, so all they could do was wait, as a cold stiffness reached over her body. The last word he told her was I love you. He left the room, only to be told hours later that she had died.
Now he waited in the cemetery, staring at the tombstone. It was 11:59... soon it would be the DEvil's hour. He began walking back.
A sudden sound of ground churning made him jump . His eyes darted to the floor as he saw the hands or corpses nearby arise from their damp graves. Mutilated corpses, flesh hanging off their bones, joints visible, used their own scratchy finger to their own stones, writing.
His mind thought quickly. If these souls arose, then she must have! Finally he can say goodbye. He raced among tombs, jumping over corpses. He finally reached her grave. The beautiful Sheila stood, pale, eyes sunken in. Her hair was thin, with bald patches on her head. Her finger was filed down so the bone was smooth. She had been writing on her tombstone. He cried at the sight of her. Skin was off in areas... bugs crawled along her once sweet, skin.
She lifted a mangled arm and pointed toward the grave. He couldn't say a word. He was in shock. Fear paralyze him as he read the tomb. It read:
BORN 1980-2001
A DAUGHTER and Decietful Lover.
After reading the last line, he blacked out.