روايات وقصص ضمن Gothic Graveyard

looking helpless as he lost the only thing that made him a god: his land. "You look like you're staring at a funeral," Silas rumbled, standing by the window. His silhouette appeared massive against the grey sky. "I am," I whispered. My voice was a dry rasp, like a dead leaf when crushed. "I'm watching the burial of the Crescent Alpha. I just didn't expect the scene to look so... boring, and ordinary…" My cough broke the silence, a deep, racking tremor that made my ribs feel like they were being snapped back one by one. I pressed a tissue to my mouth that quickly soaked in a dark, thick crimson. I didn't panic; that was for people who still had a future.

He hadn’t been able to observe it from such a short distance, but now that he had, he was still somewhat terrified. The largest tombstone stood tall in the middle as if it were the core of this large graveyard. It was hundreds of feet tall, with tightly-packed symbols all over. None of them were legible, though, so Alex was sure they didn’t come from his location. However, each word and symbol looked as if they had a specific law power within them. Moreover, this large tombstone was surrounded by neatly-arranged graves. Every grave had a designated black tombstone, each carved with an actual name.

The footfalls of his boots on the cobblestone path echoed sinisterly amongst the old tombstones. A few paces ahead situated a lonesome-looking Gothic-Romanesque Church. It had been established centuries ago in the year 1620 by the Franciscan Order. Dim light filtered through from its arching windows, illuminating some of the partially eroded names on the older tombstones he passed. But Vladimir had no trouble locating the exact tombstones he was looking for. Since the full moon shone bright enough to further illuminate the spectral graveyard. He had finally arrived upon about a dozen of the tombstones he would visit regularly years ago. The first two were of his parents, Anastasia and Christ

The stern faces of each tombstone erected in their regimented lines, they stood guard solemnly over their plots. Like rows of grim dominos amongst the hardened earth of an early spring, they were placed in order of the most recently fallen. The sky above, plagued with persistent gray clouds, they reflected a somber light on the graveyard below. The entire scene awash in a macabre hue, the world seemed to be devoid of color in this solitary moment. However, there amidst the company of these melancholic graves, stood a sole mourner.

They both gave her sad looks but she was grateful to have them there. The sky overhead was darkening but the rain had thankfully held off. Grayston’s main cemetery was quiet. It was filled with lush, grassy grounds that swept up and down in little hills and troughs. The weather made the color of the grass seem a little duller than usual. As far as her eyes could see, there were gravestones dotted around the green expanse. Some were larger and stood out against the extravagant tomb sites they stood over while the majority were small and simple.

He anticipated this move and awaited his opponent's next move with eagerness. Therefore, he didn't rush, instead maintaining a steady pace as he trailed the figure. It darted swiftly, leading Adrian to a sprawling graveyard. Adrian halted, surveying the scene. It was an ancient, abandoned cemetery, its graves appearing to have stood for centuries. The figure now stood amid the graves, emitting a sinister laugh. "Kid, do you realize the gravest mistake of your life? It's following me here!" he taunted Adrian, his voice laced with mockery.

The parts which were off limits to the students. Well, I would say that I am impressed as I noticed how they had taken it really far off. There was a security patrol to the far end, then right in front was a graveyard. Its aesthetics was really antique and I could have sworn that they would say ancient werewolves were buried here for sure. There were old erected tombs which were already dusty but a path laid up ahead. I know this because I have been here in the past with my father.

I found myself standing in the middle of the pack’s cemetery. I knew it was the cemetery when I saw the half fallen gate with rusted iron that Damon has promised to change a million times but never did. It was the dead of night, and everything was cloaked in darkness. I could barely make out the outlines of the gravestones around me. The silence, only broken by the occasional hoot of an owl or a distant, eerie mournful cry. I was holding a bouquet of white roses in my hand, I wasn't holding this earlier.

The only sound they made as they walked was the soft crunch of their boots on the gravel road, and they breathed steadily in the chilly evening air. With careful hands, they dug slowly and almost reverently to prepare the graveyard area. The sky above was a dull orange as the sun began to set, and long shadows hung over the countryside. Even though they didn't talk much during the preparation, their silence betrayed the weight of their shared loss.

That unease crawled up my spine before I even realized why. “Where are you taking us?” I asked at last. He didn’t look at me. “The exact location Killian sent.” That didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. We drove in silence for a few more minutes until he slowed down and brought the car to a stop. I looked up, and my chest tightened. Tall iron gates loomed ahead, worn but well kept, and beyond them stretched rows upon rows of gravestones. This wasn’t just any burial ground. This was where the pack laid its important dead, Alphas, Lunas, warriors whose names still carried weight long after their bodies had turned to dust.