Chapter 1: A Call from Beyond the Grave

Tracy Young stood on the corner waiting for the taxi to arrive. She knew that the local people were watching her, because she was a stranger invading their homeland. However, Tracy disliked being watched, and since was from another town a few miles away, it didn't make her any different from any other women in that town. Still, everywhere she walked she could see them staring at her through their windows, and from behind their newspapers. If a person did not know Tracy, they would think that she had arms coming out of her head, or a third eye in the center of her forehead, because of how she was being watched. She brushed her long red-hair back with her hand, as a taxi turned the corner.

"Where to Miss?" The taxi driver asked in a polite voice when he stopped beside her.

"To the Mansville Cemetery, please," she said without looking at him.

"That's a very scary place to go after dark Miss. I know it is none of my concern, but may I ask why you are going there so close to nightfall?"

"I'm going to visit some old friends of mine that I have not visited in a long time."

"You're not from around here Miss, I can tell it in your eyes. Your body is here, but your soul and heart are somewhere else."

"That's right, I'm from Brighten, but in my heart I'm in a place far away from here. A place where people treat me like a normal person."

"Are you implying that the people around here treat you differently than everyone else?"

"No, I'm not saying they treat me any different, but they do stare at me, no matter where I go or what I do."

"That's easy to understand Miss, because you're a nice looking girl, and if it would not offend you, I would say that you're down right pretty."

"Thanks for the compliment," she said as he turned onto Meadow Lane.

The entrance to the Mansville Cemetery was at the end of Meadow Lane, where the road dead-ended; if a person could say that without it sounding funny. Still, the large yellow sign standing across the road, near the end of the street, spelled out DEAD-END in large black letters.

Tracy laughed softly as they approached the end of the road. "What's so funny Miss," the taxi driver asked as he stopped close to the sign. She looked into the mirror and saw the man driving the taxi was white, with grayish-black hair. Tracy guessed he was in his mid-50s, and a little on the heavy side. He wore a baseball cap with the letters M F on the front of it. The letters were white on a blue background, and the more she looked at them, the more they reminded her of a very bad word. However, she knew it had to stand for the Mansville Falcons, which was the local high school football team.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, I was just laughing at that sign, you- know that one reads dead-end? I would surely think that if a person ended up here it would be a dead-end for sure."

The cab driver laughed as she handed him a five-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. She glanced down at the meter and it read $3.25. "Thank you, and thanks for the story about the sign. That's the first time I looked at it that way. Would you like for me to wait Miss?"

"No, there's no need to wait. I have a friend coming by later to take me back to town," Tracy said as she turned and walked away. "I wonder what he would have thought about the letters on his hat, if I had told him what I was really thinking?" she whispered as she walked toward the graves.

The sound of thunder roared above her as she walked. She looked up in the sky, and noticed the clouds were turning very dark. "Now where can I find you," Tracy whispered as she continued walking. She stopped suddenly and turned around; a strange feeling came over her. A feeling of someone staring at her, however, she knew that she was alone because she had looked around before walking to the graves. The taxi was the only car that she could see, and it was driving away.

"Get a grip Tracy, there's no body here! You're alone and that's the way you like it," she whispered as the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There were tiny goose bumps on each of her arms, and there was still a terrible feeling that someone was watching her. No not watching her, but staring into her soul.

Tracy saw something moving behind one of the small headstones. That small headstone looked as if it could have been the oldest one in the graveyard. Tracy knew from experience that some of the headstones were very old. Memories of her youth came rushing back to her as she tried to stand still. Her body trembled, and a strange coldness over came her. She rubbed her arms gently, as the memories of her and her family walking through the cemetery came back to her. She was twelve and it seemed as if it had yesterday. Tracy could not remember the people they had come to visit, but she did remember some of the names and daters on the headstones. Each time they came to visit the cemetery, twelve-year old Tracy would walk away from her family and go off exploring on her own.

John, her father, always asked her to stay near-by, but she could not resist exploring the old graves and headstones. One of the headstones, she remembered, belonged to a Mister Gary Wolfe. She knew he was born sometime in June of 1883, but she couldn't remember the exact date on which he was born. The headstone on Mr. Wolfe's grave had a face of a wolf on it, as well as an eagle, and a large fish. That's how she remembered the grave so easily. "Mr. Wolfe had a wolf, E-I-E-I-O," she used to sing that song when she was younger. "And in this graveyard, there are many others with a grave, a grave here, and a grave there, here a grave there a grave, everywhere a grave, E-I-E-I-O.

Her mother, Mary, had heard her singing that song one day, and told her that it was a bad song, and to never sing that song again. So, when she was alone, she sang a second verse.

"Oh, hateful mother had a grave, and it did not come soon enough. A mother's grave here, a mother's grave there, everywhere a mother's grave, thank God, E-I-E-I-O."

Tracy started walking again until she heard something moving in the woods near the graveyard. "Is that you Mr. Wolfe, or is that my dear old mother? The last time I checked Mr. Wolfe, your grave was cracked and my mother's was covered with stone. "So please don't hurt me Mr. Wolfe," she shouted as she continued walking toward the edge of the cemetery. Her parent's graves were near the edge of the woods where she heard the noise coming from. "Come on out my dear Mother. Come on out and take me away, because I have sung that old song one more time!" Tracy slowly moved forward while she was trying to see what was still in the woods. "Hello," she shouted. "Hello, who's there," she yelled as she scanned the line of trees. The trees surrounding the graveyard where large and very old and she could remember hearing her father speak about them during one of her many visits. She remembered him saying something about how the man which owned the land knew here great-grandfather when he was young. Her father told her and her mother about how they worked together in the fields, until someone in that man's family died and left him some money, which he used to buy eighty acres of land around here. Later on, the man donated the church enough land to build a cemetery on. He is now buried around here, and now that I think about it, I believe that I heard my father once call him Stanley Fillmore.

A gust of wind passed through the cemetery was her long red-hair swayed back-and-fourth gently. Her long black dress and high-heel shoes would make someone think that she was here to bury someone, instead of being here trying to find one very special grave, one that had terrified her when she was younger. Many people thought she was here to visit her parent's graves; however, that was only a front because there was something about that grave which made Tracy feel uneasy. Tracy belied the grave she was searching for was one of a young girl. One cold and rainy day, her father had stopped to visit the people in the graveyard. The rain was just a light drizzle, but it wasn't enough to stop them from their normal visit.

When they arrived, she began one of her many exploring adventures. She was walking around when she heard someone call out her name. "Tracy, Traaaaacy," the voice called out softly. When she turned around to see who called her, the place was empty; except for her father and mother, which were a good one hundred yards or so ahead of her. After the voice called her name, she heard the sound of scratching coming from behind her. She tried to scream and she tried to run, but something seemed to hold her in place. She broke free from the strange hold, when she heard the sounds of cement breaking behind her, and ran toward her parents. When she reached her father, she told him about the voice and the strange sounds she had heard. Her father just played it off as if it had never happened, and decided to call it a day. Tracy heard the voice calling out to her four or five different times, and each time she was close to her parents. She thought she was going insane, because her parents never said they heard the voice, until a couple of days before her mother died. The doctors told Tracy that her mother was not right in her mind. But, one day, she did manage to open her eyes and told Tracy that she had heard the little girl call her name. Tracy's mother never opened her eyes again, since she died two days later from breast cancer.

"Don't give up! You will make it," the voice inside of her head whispered as she heard the sound of a vehicle coming in the distance. Tracy turned to see if Drake Stevens was coming toward the cemetery. She spotted the car as it came to the place where she exited the taxi. It was a small black car, a nice, new foreign-made sports car. The headlights were tinted black, as well as the windows. She had seen tinted windows before, however the windows in that car had to have been painted to be so dark. The black car stopped, with its headlights pointing in her direction. The sun was falling below the horizon, faster than she had hoped. She glanced at her watch, and the small numbers flashed 6:00pm.

"Hurry up, Drake! You promised you'd be here at six! This is not the time or place to be late," she whispered. The engine in the car came to life, and the person inside the car held the accelerator down to the floor for a few seconds. She kneeled down behind one of the old headstones in front of her and the car moved a few feet closer and stopped. The ending died and everything was once again quite peaceful around her. She smiled until she heard the thing move in the woods, similar to before. She reached inside her purse and pulled out her cell phone, dialed Drake's number and placed the phone to her ear, but the phone was dead. She opened her purse again and searched around for a spare battery. The black car, the grave, and the thing moving around in the woods, all escaped her mind as she replaced the battery. She slowly opened the phone and dialed Drake's number one more time. Suddenly, the sound of a horn echoed through the stillness, and a large black dog ran by her. It was so close to Tracy, that if she had moved suddenly she would have touched it. A cool, brisk, blast of wind touched her skin, as she turned around to look for the dog. Tracy jumped when Drake's voice came over the cell phone.

"Hi, hold on one second please. I'm sorry; I'm busy at this very moment."

"Thank God you're at home Drake, I need help there's a... "

"Sorry, please leave a message; I'm not home at this time."

"Drake, one of these days, I'm going to take that phone and shove it where the sun doesn't shine, if you don't change that stupid message! I'm here at the graveyard, and there's some strange things going on around here. Please get here soon, there's a black car parked behind me and there's something moving around in the woods," she yelled. Then she heard the sound of laughter coming from the woods beside her. The laughter sounded like the deep laughter of a man, and the laughter of a young girl combined as one.

"Please God, please Drake help me," she yelled and closed the cell phone. Her white alabaster skin glowed softly in the darkness as she watched the sun disappear behind the trees. The sky burned bright red like an amber flame, and the clouds turned dark gray. The temperature began to drop, as if early winter had arrived. "Come on Drake, where are you," she whispered as she lifted her head up above the headstone. A pair of bright red headlights came on and was pointed in her direction. She turned around and sat down on the cold cement slab beneath her.

Tracy placed her hand inside her small purse hoping to find something that she could use as a weapon. Her fingers slowly touched each object in her purse until; something pricked the end of her first finger. She pulled out a sharp nail file and smiled. "Just come on! I'm ready for you now," she whispered as a drop of blood fell and landed on the cold slab beneath her. The blood ran across the grave, and disappeared as if it had been sucked into the grave itself. She reached inside her purse once more, and pulled out a small band-aid. She set the nail file on the ground beside her and wrapped the band-aid around her finger. Once more, the blood on the nail file rolled off and disappeared into the grave. The sound of her heartbeat echoed so loudly inside her head; she thought the dog and the thing in the woods could hear it. A small pebble flew across the headstone and bounced on the grave beside her. She jumped, but did not make a sound. Another pebble and another flew over the headstone until one of the small pebbles struck her on the leg. She yelled when it hit her, not from the amount of pain that it caused, but from it just simply hitting her. Another one flew over the headstone and hit her again, only this time the pebble was much larger than the others were. "Stop it! Stop it! Do you hear me, enough is enough," she shouted. The pebbles stopped falling and the wind seemed to grow stronger.

"Tracy, Tracy, Traaaaacy," a young girl's voice called out to her. "Don't be afraid little girl, don't be afraid little girl, for the dead will soon rule the world," the young girl sang.

"Go away, you're not real! Go away; you're only my imagination playing tricks on me! My father was right, you're not real! Come on Tracy, wake up! Wake up and snap out of it," she shouted when she heard the sound of the little girl's voice calling her again.

"Tracy, Tracy, oh little Traaaaacy. Come home; come home to where you belong. Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, don't be afraid little girl. The dead will soon rule the world. E-I-E-I-O."

A smile came across Tracy's face, when she heard the sound of another vehicle approaching the cemetery. "What a place to die. It would be sad for someone to hear that you died at the Mansville Cemetery. People would say that she fell down and broke her neck, or that she died of fright, because she was afraid of the big, bad, boogey-man. "One of these days Tracy, one of these days, the boogey-man is going to get you for telling lies little girl. Just wait and see the boogey-man is going to get you."

Tracy started to stand up, but she heard the little girl singing again. Only this time the sound of the little girl's voice was very close to her own. "Don't be afraid, come home to where you belong; you can't go wrong. For the dead will soon rule the world. E-I-E-I-O." Tracy then stood up as the sound of the vehicle stopped close to the place where the black car waited. When she turned to face the vehicle, she saw that it was a large dark truck with headlights just as bright as the red lights on the car, which was still sitting in the same spot. The truck's engine stopped and the sound of heavy rock-and-roll music filled the air...

"Rockin' the ground, returning to earth, / rockin' the ground, returning to earth, / for inside the ground, nothing will let you down, / for inside the ground, nothing will let you down."

The sounds of the music echoed around the cemetery as the base from the black car, shook the ground beneath her.

"Death will come, there's no way to get away, / so come join us dead inside the ground."

The music stopped suddenly, as if someone had turned the radio off. Tracy sat down on the grave, with her back against the head stone. She placed her hands over her ears and looked down. When she looked down, she spotted a couple of black roses, in the eerie red light, growing out of the grave. They were coming out of the grave at the exact spot where her blood had disappeared earlier. The light stopped, and she raised her head up. When she looked up, she saw a pair of white fangs less than two-inches from her face. The dog was growling and blood was dripping out of its mouth. A large rock hit the dog on top of its head, as its jaws reached for Tracy's throat. The dog howled, turned around, and ran away.

The sound of laughter filled the air as she closed her eyes in hopes that she would pass out, or wake up form the terrible nightmare that she was having. She moved her hand back-and-fourth across the grave, trying to find the nail file she had dropper earlier. She stopped, opened her purse, and pulled out her cell phone again. She opened it and dialed 911.

"Hello, you have reached the Mansville Police Department. How may we help you?" the voice of a young woman in her early twenties said.

"Y-Yes, this is Tracy Young. I'm out here at the Mansville Cemetery, and I think that someone or something is trying to kill me. Please send help!"

"Sorry, TRACY, There's no help for a little girl like you. The only help you're going to get is to stop breathing," a man with a deep voice said on the other line. The voice echoed as if there were more that one person speaking at the same time. Tracy closed the cell phone, opened it again, and dialed 911 just as before. The phone rang, but no one answered. She jumped and dropped the cell phone on the grave, when a small rabbit ran by her and brushed up against her leg. The cell phone shattered into many different pieces, when it hit the grave.

"Tracy, Tracy, where are you?" someone shouted from the parking lot. "Tracy, come on out and answer me. It's me, Drake. Let's get out of this place," the voice shouted.

"I'm over here," Tracy yelled and raised her arms above her head. The red lights were gone now; they had been replaced by a set of normal white headlights.

"Drake, is it really you?! I'm going to kill you for causing me to wait! You're going to regret being late this time!"

"Sorry sweetheart. But if it will make you feel any better, I'll leave and come back later," he said as he stepped around in front of the vehicle. She walked toward him and almost touched him, when something dark and very large ran between them.

The next thing she knew, Drake's stomach was ripped open and his head fell off. She screamed and ran towards the car. When she touched the door handle, the black thing smashed the rear window beside her. When she looked inside the vehicle, she saw that it was the black car from before. Her father waved at her from the back seat, and his hair was long and gray, a long with a white beard and mustache. His skin was as white as a new cotton sheet. When she looked at him again, there was a crack running down from the top of his head to his chin. It resembled the shape of a lightning bolt, which ran down from his forehead, on the left side of his nose, then turned right and went across his mouth, and finally down to his chin. He smiled at her and all of his teeth were missing. He reached out to touch her, when a large knife ran down his face. It followed the lightning-bolt shaped crack down to his chin and stopped. Black blood shot out of his face, and ran down his throat. Tracy fell backwards, and the car started. It rolled backwards slowly until it had just enough room to turn around. Then the car pulled off and rolled down the main road leaving the cemetery. The song came on again as the car disappeared. Then the large black truck followed the car and left. Tracy sat up, as the movement in the trees started again.

She tried to stand, but she slipped and fell down. Small raindrops started to fall, as streaks of lightning filled the dark sky above her. Memories about the last time she came to this awful place came back to her; she was depressed, and her mother had asked her if there was anything wrong.

"Nothing's wrong mother, it's just that the world tries to shut me out when I try to accomplish something. Something that would make everyone proud of me, and that includes my parents," Tracy remembered the expression on both of their faces.

"What's going on around here? I think our little girl has grown up into a fine young adult, and she's going to make us proud," her father said with that strange smile on his face. Tracy was worried about being rejected, and about having her thoughts torn to pieces like a piece of paper inside a paper shredder. She sank every thing she had into a big smile for her father, but still deep in her heart, she knew her mother would never trust her.

"Let's talk about this later, Tracy, right now we have other things on our minds. I think your ideas are wonderful."

"Now how did she know what I was thinking? How did she know that in my heart I wanted to be someone special?" Tracy stood in front of her mother for the first time, without having something smart to say. Tracy knew deep in her heart, that if she asked her mother the same question each day, she would get a different answer every time. She remembered walking beside her parents with her head held high until the day she heard the girl's voice call out her name.

"Did you hear that mother? Did you hear someone call my name? Oh, never mind. Father, may I ask you a question?" she whispered as she reached down and grabbed his hand.

"Sure my little angel, go ahead and ask anything you would like to ask."

"Who's grave is it that you and mother always come here to visit? I have seen the grave many times, but there's no name on the grave, and it is somewhat small. Is it my grandfather's or grandmother's grave? I know they died when I was very young, but it still seems strange to come and visit one grave, and not two."

"Well, where should I begin? Let's see," he said as a car pulled into the cemetery and stopped. The driver of the small, blue, three-lettered car pressed down on the horn and held it for a few seconds. "Sorry angel, but we will have to get back to this later, that's Mike from work and I have to speak with him about something very important," Tracy's father said as he walked away from her and towards the car.

Somewhat uncertain and confused, she turned and walked toward her mother. Tracy glanced into her mother's eyes and new that this was a bad time to ask her any questions. Slowly, as she walked from her mother, she made her way across two graves, until she came to a strange looking headstone. The headstone was much smaller than that of those around her. It was round, painted with a bright red color, and had a small candle burning in front of it. Tracy kneeled down to get a better view of the carvings on it. "Tracy Young. Born February 14, 1967, died February 14, 2004." "Hey this person has the same name and birthday was I have," Tracy shouted.

When she looked up her father and mother were occupied with the conversation of his friend, and did not turn around. It seemed to Tracy that the stranger inside the car was consuming every ounce of energy from them.

"Come on, Tracy, let's go. Mike has invited us over to his house for dinner. Hurry or we are going to be late and make a bad impression, if we don't leave now."

"Coming father," Tracy shouted as she glanced around the grave so that she could find it on the next trip.

Sunday came along finally, and was ready to take the short trip to the graveyard; only to find herself disappointed because her father had decided to return to Mike's house instead of going to their usual place. Another week passed by before she had the chance to find the grave again. When they did return, she searched and searched the ground for the little red headstone, but she could not find it. Steam rose from the cemetery as she searched, the wind howled, and the limps of the trees danced back-and-fourth all around. The clouds rolled in and a bolt of lightning struck the grave beside her. She slipped and fell backwards, slowly hitting the cold dark earth. Half-decayed bodies and skeletons floated past her, their hands were moving as if they were trying to grab hold of her, trying to pull her further down into the pit of darkness. Blood flew from the side of her head as she passed out. When she woke, she was lying in a large hospital bed. The objects moving around her bed had fire coming out of their mouth, and their eyes had flames burning inside of them. "Go away and leave me alone," she shouted. She screamed for help, and the sound of her voice woke her, then she sat up beside the grave. Flowers of many different colors swayed back-and-fourth in the wind, and in the distance, a strange white light glowed in the center of the cemetery. An owl startled her as it sang out close by.

"Will this night ever end," she whispered as she reached for her cell phone. She opened it and dialed Drake's number, only to hear the same message she heard before. Slowly she scanned the graveyard as far as her eyes could see. She rose up and decided it was clear to stand. When she reached her feet, a large black cat hissed and jumped toward her. She stumbled and fell backwards; when she landed, she grabbed her chest with one hand and her head with the other. She felt a large knot growing on her forehead from where she had slipped and hit the headstone earlier. Bolts of lightning flashed above her, and one large bolt struck the place form where the strange light was coming from. The lightning was followed by a loud roar of thunder.

She got up and ran toward the parking lot, and when she reached it, the eerie red lights came down the road toward her. Tracy turned, and ran behind another large headstone. She stopped and dropped down to her knees. She turned around as a strange white light caught her eye. The light was moving around in the graveyard, and it looked like an elderly man. Everything about him was white: his hair, beard, and even his clothes. The thing turned toward her, and stared at her with a pair of bright red eyes. The vehicle pulled up behind her and stopped, and it doors opened and closed, as if someone had exited from it.

"You're not going to take me that easy," she whispered as she opened her phone and dialed 911. A woman's voice came over the line.

"Thank God you're there, please help me! Someone's after me," she screamed.

"Calm down Miss, and give me your location."

"I'm at the graveyard," Tracy whispered.

"There's no one going to come for you Tracy," she shouted, "You're going to die!"

"Where did this come from," she whispered as she glanced at the cell phone. "I dropped my cell phone earlier and it broke it pieces. The cell phone in her hand turned red and started to glow. Before she could let it go, it started to move and change shape. She threw the phone as hard as she could, and ducked behind the headstone, when suddenly a tree snapped beside her. She looked down at the grave she was sitting on, and found that it was the same grave she found when she was younger. She touched the headstone and found her name, then the grave turned red, and a pair of hands came out of it and grabbed her.

The next morning, Drake tried to call Tracy to explain that he had had car trouble. He dialed her cell phone, work, and her home number, only to get the same response; no answer. The only person he managed to talk to was the woman at her work, and she had not seen or heard from her ever since last week. Later that day, the Mansville Cemetery groundskeeper found a girl's body sitting on a grave. There were black roses growing around it, and the girl's mouth was open and her skin was white. When the police arrived, one of the officers told the groundskeeper that it looked as if she had been scared to death.

"Don't go to the Mansville Cemetery after dark, there are strange things that happen out there," the taxi cab driver told the young police officer in his twenties as he walked toward the grave.

Good story. It's nice to see an old fashioned, just plain old, horror story on here. Few and far between. Keep up the good work.

Excellent! A classic-style story. Something you would tell around a camp fire (or a cemetary for that matter.) I'd like to read more stories like this around here.

[rjd_39]

when is the next chapter out?

[sensitive1]

Setting kind of cliche, but you made it work. Good, classic horror story. Good use of adjectives.

[king4adaze5]

This is a great horror story! I really like this!

[Ambrose]

I really don't understand why Tracy died, and what was the deal with the grave with her name on it? A little more explanation would have made the story more enjoyable for me. At times, the descriptions seemed to cloud rather than clear the picture for me. You kind of over-established that it was dark, and consequently the setting was obscured. If this was intentional, you should at least give the reader some kind of foundation upon which to base the story, whether it be real or otherwise. The whole thing felt like an episode of the twilight zone, which isn't bad, but you can only endure so much mystery before your head starts to spin.