Thursday, 6 June 2013


It was the 15th of June. The incessant raining had halted after having soaked us for three long days. The summer vacations were almost over as again the school awaited us. The vision of again being imprisoned to clutches of homework and assignments haunted us as we decided to have a "boys' night out" over at James'. James, Stiles and me were the best of friends,ever since kinder garden and we were often tagged as "The three devils",courtesy of our never-ending pranks. We were indeed a fun lot, our hearts echoed the same mischief and God had made us equally devilish. I still remember the day when the teacher walked in,only to get the egg-splatter on his head as we did prepare for him a nice bucket, carefully placed on the joint between the top door rung and the wall.

A night at James' always had in it the ingredients of prodigious happenings,if you know what i mean. Christfield cemetery was the talk of the town back then. The town was buzzing with rumours that on every full moon night,ghosts walked and roamed about. Ghastly sounds, fishy smells, foggy weather created for an absolute paradise for such stories to breed,or so we thought. Anyway it caught the attention of "the three musketeers" after the third caretaker had resigned in a month. You see we didn't bother to look out for little things until it cooked up an aura of importance. We just couldn't let our reputation fizz out for nothing.

We decided to sneak out of James' at 12:15am sharp, armed with our gadgets of trade- scissors,duct tape,stun-gun, our bike helmets, our special "Zeus" sticks which helped us perform many a feat and most important of all- three video cameras. With our facets of expertise carefully nudged into our backpacks, we set out for our expedition to the "Christfield cemetery". Stiles was a year younger to us and he was set on guard ,just to warn us over if the coast became unclear and brought the time to run. He was set on duty. The little one did shiver in his large-sized boots, as he handed over two walky-talkies to us. "Stay connected," said he,spooked by the sudden chill that probably ran down his spine as he gulped.

" Yup, stay in touch, and send the signal out for danger ," I said,patting on his shoulder ," We will be back at 1:30 am sharp,right here.And keep your video on at all times. We don't want to miss anyhting ghosty,do we?",adorning a smile,which can be best described as a grin.

Leaving him back we proceeded on .The moon shone that day with all her strength,making it easier to see as we didn't bother to use the torch lights. The entry of a cemetery was guarded, about a 500 yards into it, by two humongous large statues. Both had crowns and big locks carved in marble, as they held on to their swords. Their faces, full of white-gooey material- sparrows shit, and each had a frightening look which shook many a bone in our tiny frames.
We decided to give two rounds around.
" You know, this is the first time in my life, I am afraid," squeaked James. " I guess we should return back home!"
"No,absolutely not,lets unravel this mystery and prove that there are no ghosts," comforted I, veiling a thin slice of fear that was born unto me.

It was really dark ,deep into the cemetery. Dead leaves carpeted the cemetery floor and a frosty breeze chilled our behinds. We almost stuck to each other as we started filming around. The tombstones, the epitaphs, the flowers on some tombs as a mark of respect, and so on. The wind picked up and there was a slight misty tinge to the surroundings. By then we had covered one round. Just then we realised, that the two statues were missing. Amazed and horrified we tiptoed in, only to find that there were no markings of breakage.
"They were made from marble, perhaps its the work of experienced robbers," whispered James, but in my heart, I sensed something awkard.
Anyway, we resumed our search. We filmed the figurines of gargoyles and elves. Perhaps they were kept to scare people off, but not us. Owls hooted and the wind shrieked through and the friction with the moisty air, caused a wailing sound.
"What was that sound? It seems like somebody's shriek!! ", I said,clasping onto my Zeus stick.
"Beat it man, it's just the stupid wind. lets move our asses!!", came the sharp reply.
Soon the wind really picked up and we struggled to stay on our feet. The alarm clock on our watches echoed the time and we decided to call it quits and conclude that there wasn't anything ghastly about the cemetery ,except for the fear itself. As we were nearing the gates, we saw the two marble statues back in place. In stupefied amazement, we went forward to look, only to find that they have assumed the same exact positions on their platforms.
"Hey look Sen, one marble finger is missing!",said James, as I investigated the same and proceeded towards the gate. The walky talkies were utterly useless and of no avail and didn't help us one bit throughout this expedition.When we reached the gates the sight that awaited us was something we least expected to see. There lay Stiles, his hair soaked in blood, as he lay lifeless with eyes open. His entire body was cut in half and dismantled in three areas and blood formed a puddle near the wet green grass. We were shocked and stupefied and frightened beyond anything. We moved closer to see him,only to find that in his right hand he was holding onto something-a marble finger.
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