David's Revenge

Lori and Jon crept through the cemetery at midnight, the moon casting eerie shadows across the headstones. They had barely spoken since David’s funeral, the guilt gnawing at their insides. Their best friend, their brother in all but blood, was dead because they hadn’t given him a needed ride home from the drinking party on that fateful night.

 

They stopped at David’s grave, a fresh mound of earth beneath a simple stone marker. Lori shivered, the cold seeping into her bones, and Jon’s breath came out in visible puffs. “David,” she whispered, voice trembling, “we’re so sorry. We should have taken you home.”

 

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the dark and ancient oaks that loomed over the graves. A chill that was more than the night air settled over them, and both felt the hairs on the back of their necks stand up.

 

Suddenly, a ghostly figure materialized in front of them. David’s face was pale and distorted, eyes hollow with a malevolent light. His voice echoed in the still night, a terrifying whisper filled with rage and sorrow. “Why didn’t you help me?” he hissed.

 

Jon stepped back, stumbling over a crooked headstone. “David, we’re sorry,” he stammered, voice cracking. “We never meant for this to happen!”

 

David’s ghost hovered closer, the air around them growing colder and denser. “Sorry isn’t enough,” he snarled, his haunting form flickering in and out of focus. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, the earth shifting unnaturally.

 

A nearby grave, recently dug but unfilled, yawned open like hungry jaws. The earth trembled beneath Lori and Jon’s feet, and they stumbled, losing their balance. A supernatural wind whipped through the graveyard, howling with a fury that echoed David’s torment.

 

Before they could react, the ground gave way beneath them, and they tumbled into the open grave. Lori screamed, her voice swallowed by the dark soil. Jon tried to climb out, but the earth seemed to pull him back, an unseen force pinning him down.

 

David’s ghost loomed above them, his eyes glowing with a vindictive fire. “You abandoned me,” he groaned, his voice a cold wind that cut through the night. The ground trembled once more, and a supernatural wind picked up the loose pile of dirt beside the grave.

 

Lori and Jon struggled, their hands reaching up in a desperate plea for mercy, but the wind was relentless. The dirt cascaded down, filling the grave inch by inch. They screamed, their voices growing fainter as the earth covered them, burying them alive. The cold, suffocating darkness closed in, and their struggles grew weaker until, finally, there was silence.

 

David’s ghost hovered above the grave, his vengeance complete. The wind died down, and the cemetery returned to its eerie stillness. Only the newly filled grave stood as a silent witness to the events of the night.

 

In the end, the friendship shattered by guilt and the haunting presence of their lost friend had reached its dark conclusion. The graveyard, now the final resting place for Lori, Jon, and David, remained forever marked by the tragedy of that fateful night. The old cemetery, shrouded in darkness and sorrow, whispered their tale to anyone brave enough to listen—a haunting reminder that some wounds never heal, and some sins are not forgiven. 

 

 

Mark Gammill  10/2024