Creepy Cemetery Tattoos Novels & Stories

Not many could find him, but Cecilia had always been persistent; she had walked through countless cemeteries, looking for the one in the black hood, and the scythe strapped to his back. This certain cemetery was in the outskirts of her town; headstones littered as far as the eye could see, and the center of it was different from the rest. A small building had been destroyed for unknown purposes, revealing hidden tunnels. No one had traveled through, especially once the gnarled roots of dead trees began to grow over the entrance. But Cecilia was no quitter; she brought a sharpened hatchet and made her way down, traveling by light of an oil lamp she had found. It was strange; the object had be

Thirteen Months Ago-JANUARY 11th, 2025 The cemetery in Daisy Field was a graveyard of repressed desires, shielded by a sea of black umbrellas and the heavy Florida humidity. Bethany Evers stood at the grave's edge, her hips swaying with a grace that suggested she was mourning a lover rather than a priest. She daintily dabbed at her eyes as Sister Patrice wailed a hymn, but her focus was elsewhere. She adjusted her push-up bra, hoisting her generous breasts upward the moment she caught her ex-boyfriend Rupert looking. She wanted everyone to know that while the holy Father was dead, the town harlot was very much alive.

she whispered softly. Everyone knows Doom Cemetery is off-limits. Should you enter without permission; there is a price to pay. She once questioned her grandfather about the graves wondering why there were never truly crosses around…he told her the records showed it was non-believers who died but the grounds were enchanted. They had eternal peace with no disturbance but if you violate the graves unrest will follow you. “There is three just ahead. Careful…” Thomas said softly. “Who said that?” Billy was instantly anxious not liking the voice that sounds in his head.

"The hysteria Northern graveyard? Yeah." Roman uttered with subtle pressure as he allowed himself to articulate despite the ache in his body. After he was furrowed off the carriage, his body collided with a tall hard tree. It didn't halt there, his body continued to rumble down the muddy sloppy soil, inducing his face into the sluggish dirt. Now, they were off their trail. "How did we get here?" The hysteria Northern cemetery was a no-go zone to all empires. Despite it being a graveyard, no typical body was buried inside. It was conveyed that the northern creature buries his prey there after feeding on them. So it constantly lurked around there.

He yanks me by one arm, pulling me with such force it actually hurts. "Ow! Stop!" I shout, but he puts his other hand over my mouth, walking me down the hill until I see the cemetery, the same familiar place I know very well. "Do you see that gravestone?" he growls, pointing in the direction of Zack's resting place. "Yeah. Why?" I say in my best bitch voice. He turns me around to face him, his hands tight on my shoulders. "Because you'll be buried next to him if you do not listen to me carefully!" His words feel like they're cutting into my flesh.

Crying would not bring him back. I applied my makeup carefully. Everything black. My eyes. My lips. My lashes. It felt fitting. I was not going to a party or a club. I was going to a grave. I took my black scarf, my small bag, and the white lily I had chosen. Then I left. ——— The Alpha’s cemetery was quiet when I arrived. Too quiet. Only Alphas were buried here. Powerful wolves who once ruled packs, now reduced to names carved in stone. I took out the card Damon had given me and read it again.

“This is completely new territory for me.” My eyes betray me. They drag over his bare chest, his abs, the way his pants sit low on his hips. And I feel my stomach tighten at the sight of his tattoos — ink and meaning and temptation. A yin-yang with hearts instead of dots and the number thirteen at its center, about the size of a big coin, is on his left side underneath his arm. Curling above it is the Peter Pan lettering — Sniff pixie dust and soar — in a cursive font. And on his bicep — the Reaper logo stamped on like a warning label.

The cemetery was full of crows, scarecrows and zombies chasing some people, they even came to the point of leaving the cemetery, in pursuit, prowling their killers. When none of them were the only ones there screaming and crying, not even the only one that the crows and rooks screeched and chased , swooping down on their heads, whoever passed that day says onward through the cemetery . In which there was a boy as a scarecrow buried in the same cemetery, in which during that day, in the cemetery below, a woman crying through tears under the grave of her young son who died prematurely. - I'm sorry, Deborah. – A boy was next to a woman who was crying kneeling at the foot of a tombstone when cro

“They say that Father Albert has been furious about the matter. He has asked the city council to post soldiers at the entrance to the cemetery in order to prevent it from happening again. " "Father Albert?" "The priest of Mortis of the church of the six great gods." "And who is the 'Tomb Raider'?" Viktor asked nervously. “The name has its origin in the popular fable that parents tell their children to scare them and make them behave well. But now it seems that the "Tomb Raider" is not a simple scary tale for children, after all. The first bodies began to disappear at the end of last year. Three in a few months. The first was hardly missed, since it belonged to a hanged criminal. The second w

"They scattered after the battle. Smaller groups. But they're still nearby." Not fearful. Alert. I met his gaze steadily. "Then we stay ready." He held my eyes for a second before nodding once. "Always." --- The cemetery sat on the western hill overlooking the territory. By late morning, seven fresh graves had been dug into the earth. The pack gathered silently around them. No banners. No speeches about glory. Just wolves standing shoulder to shoulder beneath a pale gray sky while the wind moved softly through the trees. Some cried openly. Others stood stiff and silent – grief locked somewhere too deep for tears.