My Mc. Novels & Stories

I told him as we stood in front of the huge metal gates. The vast land of tombstones and faceless statues laid before my eyes. The night had a cold chilly air, and I felt myself shiver. This place gave me a sense of dread. Suddenly, my mind was attacked by several images of darkness, dirt, and me struggling breathlessly, clawing my way out of the coffin I was placed in. “You sure you can handle going in there alone?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, no hint of concern in his tone. I quickly put on my strongest face, and scoffed, “Just find her grave. If she’s a witch, she’ll have a tombstone with her name. Jeanette McConnel.” I stressed her name out.