The Sight

by Luis A. Maldonado

The group of adventures drove through the small town streets. With each passing block Mark's feeling of uneasiness grew. It was a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that ran through his very soul.

"You're ridiculous." He said to himself. "You're just freaking because you're going to a cemetery at night.

They drove outward of the Town and soon found themselves intimidated by only the dashboard and the glare of the car's head light.

"Where is it?" Heather announced. "Did we pass it?"

"It's a sign." Mark thought "We aren't meant to go there"

"Wait...what's that there?" Kyle asked "Those look like gravestones".

Kyle looked out the side window and daunted in the night sky struggling to make out the grave mark that hide them. It looked old, there wasn't anything new there. Half the markers were shattered and broken.

As the car cam to a stop Mark felt an uneasy feeling of loneliness. He looked around the car at his friends and knew that he wasn't alone but still the bitter taste of solitude enveloped him.

He gripped the door handle and peered out the window. He half expected to see someone come out from the shadows but he saw nothing just gravestone.

"We'll let get out?" Felipe suggested.

Everyone opened their doors and stepped out to look around.

Mark stepped out into the night air "Still cold" he thought.

"There blood on the moon." Heather's thirteen year old niece Natalie said.

"What do you mean there blood on the moon. The spirits are out." Heather said. She uttered a quiet laugh.

Mark looked up and observed the moon. It was truly red. It dripped with giant drops of redness that threatens to fall out of the sky onto them.

Mark froze he stood there in the night peering out upon the plots and stones. A vague but eerie fog filled the small graveyard. Unusual for that time of year.

"Come on Mark." Heather invited. "Don't just stand there let's explore."

Mark hesitated but then he felt reassured as he watched his friends walk around before him.

He walked to first gravestone. Carlton the gravestone read. There was other as well in large letters. Maxwell Carlton Jr. May 18, 1861-June 3, 1901. "He was forty years old." Mark thought. The next stone only read Baker. April 3 1862- January 1, 1878. This person was young when they died.

Mark skimmed over the gravestone looking at the dates. 1891, 1927, 1938, 1898, 1903, 1945.

Then he walked over to some other stone with just names and date nine in total. Susan Baxter June 23, 1936 died April 23, 1943. James Earl Welford. Born September 18, 1933 died July 18, 1941. Johnny "Bo" Baily born on January 13, 1932 died on July 5 1939. The names read on. All those name that he just read all children that died when they were seven years old.

"What happen?" Mark said out loud for everyone to hear. "Was there an epidemic or something?"

Mark stood there in puzzlement. The question plagued his thought. "Poor kids."

As the air was getting cold. Mark heard a small laughter. "What was that?"

"What was what, Mark?" Heather said still looking at the graves.

"I thought I heard some-" before Mark could finish talking he saw something that look like a man but it was to dark that he could not tell what it was he was looking at.

Mark strained hard to see into the darkness. But couldn't see the figure any more just his friends.

Mark stood there among the graves staring out into the field. There was someone there just beyond the light from the cars. A figure of a man silhouetted by the moonlight.

Fear rose in him "Were busted" Mark thought. "Well just say we were looking for the graves of a long deceased relative."

Then it was gone. The shadow of the man Mark had just seen disappeared just a fast as it had appeared.

Mark stood there for a moment. Maybe his feeling of uneasiness had caused him to hallucinate. "Maybe I was just seeing things" whispering to himself.

While Mark waited there to see if the figure would return. After a moment he decided that he was only imagining things. He returned his attention back to the graves. Alexander H. Bailey born on February 28, 1930 died September 22, 1942. Another one dead that same seven years period.

Mark felt a sadness grow inside him. What could have happened to those children? "Had to be a sickness?" Mark hypothesized. "There parent probably couldn't take them to the doctors."

Mark stood there for a moment till he felt the warm wet sweat rolling down his cheek. Fears of sorrow filled his eyes.

He wiped them clean with the back of his shirt sleeves. "The last thing I need is Kyle teasing me" he thought.

Mark turned around and walked toward the car. There he met up with Natalie standing by the vehicle.

"You okay Mark?" she asked.

"I'm cool." he replied "Just tired."

"I feel kind of wired here." Natalie commented.

"Really, like what?"

"Like sad. I just feel sad." Natalie said still looking at the view of the graves.

Mark put his arm around her for comfort.

Then they heard a sound coming from behind the car.

"What was that?" Natalie squeezed Mark's arm.

"I don't know, sounds like laughter. Child laughter."

They both look into the darkness only the amber light from Kyle car lit up the path back to the town. Beyond the darkness they could see the streetlight that lit up Seaton's dark streets.

Then they heard it again. That when they saw her. A little girl about eight or ten years old. Standing before them she looked sad. Strange that it was laughter that they had just heard. She stood there no more then ten feet away from them in the darkness. Mark could feel could se her almost as if she stood in the daylight. She wore a meager plain white dress that feel down to he ankles. Little white barrettes lifted her long brown hair from her face.

Mark and Natalie stood there unable to speak. The little girl looks at them and turned to her side. She raised her left hand and pointed behind her toward Seaton Street. Her eyes beheld a deep sadness. White even whiter than her pale skin.

"You most leave before he take you too," she spoke "Go he's coming." the child looked at both of them and then she looked out into the field. Fear grew inside Natalie and see looked back to the little child. "Go...run leave this place." Then in an instant she was gone.

They stood there still clutching each other in bewilderment.

What they just seen. Was this just there imagination or was someone playing some cruel hoax.

Natalie broke the silence as she open the car door and leaped inside. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Mark agreed, instantly he started to yell out to everyone still among the head of the graves.

"Hey we got to go! Come on guys let get the hell out of here." Mark yelled at them.

"What wrong?" Heather said as she started walking toward Natalie and Mark.

"Nothing lets just go. Please listen to me we have to go there something wrong here."

There most have been something in his voice because without any further discussion they all loaded up and Kyle started the engine and pulled out to the main road.

Mark peered one last time into the field at were the little girl had pointed for them to leave the grave sight. There just beyond the gravestones in the moonlight Mark saw it again the figure. The shape of a man.

A cold feeling filled Mark's body. Mark eyes stayed fixed on the figure of shadowed man.

Mark held his breath all the way back to Heathers and Kyle country home. He and Natalie were quiet all the way. The both of them wondering if the night events had really transpired or had they merely been some kind of daze.

The next morning Mark woke up and drove back to the grave sight from last night. When he finally pulled up to the sight. He stops and powered the window so see the graves. But there was nothing there just an empty field.

He was puzzled because he knew that it was there. He got out of his car and stood there looking toward of nothing but an open space.

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