Regular Show Grave Sights Novels & Stories

Not that Amberleigh had much room to talk where the matter of fornication was concerned though. But it wasn’t the church or a pretty parishioner the billionaire entered, but rather the graveyard behind the looming structure. By the time she made it inside the churchyard and took cover behind a small mausoleum, he’d already reached his destination. She watched Grayson down on his knees, not giving a fuck about his expensive suit, wiping off the black, marble headstone before him with a silk handkerchief. He took great care cleaning off the stone, before he removed some dead flowers from silver holder near the headstone. He replaced the wilted stems with the fresh bouquet. Amberleigh bit the i

They were not the only ones in the cemetery, other people were there, mostly dressed in black just like she and Julie were. The sound of the outside world was muffled when they entered through a door that led to a big field where the graves were. They moved slowly, reverently, between the graves, Megan's eyes were drawn to the rows of headstones, each one a silent marker of a life once lived, now memorialized in weathered stone. The inscriptions, etched with care, told stories of love, loss, and the fleeting nature of the short time on earth. They stopped when they reached a particular grave. The name written on the headstone was Esther Sallow, underneath her name was the date of the year sh

Octavia laughed at something Nick said, and my mother watched her with the soft gaze of a woman who had already chosen her daughter-in-law. I excused myself from the table. In the study, I locked the door behind me. The monitor on my desk displayed four grainy feeds from the cemetery cameras. I hit play, just as I had done repeatedly throughout the day. There she was. Octavia stood in black, her hair pulled back severely. I watched her shove Giselle into the grave, and throw stones at her with her parents and friends. I paused the footage on her face, enlarged it, and zoomed in.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, but I saw no one. As I continued to explore the graveyard, I came across a particularly old and decrepit gravestone. The inscription on it read "Here lies a witch, feared and revered in life, but now forgotten in death, but do you think I'm dead?". I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine. The graveyard was definitely giving off a creepy vibe, but it was also fascinating. I couldn't help but wonder about the stories of the witches buried here. Who were they? What powers did they possess? And why were they feared and revered in life, but now forgotten in death?

She’s a strong woman. Once we arrive at the cemetery, we gather around the gravesite for the burial ceremony. The casket is lowered into the ground as a member of the clergy or a designated family member offers a final prayer or words of remembrance. "So, look who's coming," Someone speaks up with a sharp voice, their footsteps standing out on the ground. A bunch of rough-looking hangmen is waiting there. They have tattoos all over their bodies, their eyes sharp as daggers. They tap their sticks towards their hands, their solid bodies machetes in their style, and their swaggering features frighten anyone who dares to breathe.

The figure had an evil grimace on her face and then she walked towards the mirror to take a look at herself. Griffin grabbed the red lipstick from the small vanity, she wrote something on the mirror and put it back there. The grave was silent, the only noises of owls hooting and crickets chirping, the wind gave a howling sound when the footsteps approached the grave. 'Mrs Johnson' was written on the plate of the grave and two men began to dig the grave, swaying away from the dark coloured sand from it. "Dip deeper…" ordered a man. It was a man in a business suit, he was standing leaning to the tree, his hands crossed up to his chest like a man uttered, "Crawford. I don't think we should do t

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1985 Watching the pallbearers carry Richard Boyd’s coffin to his grave reminded me uncomfortably of the five strong men who barely got his body down from his ceiling, and I wished I hadn’t come. I’d expected a big turnout and thought some new witness or maybe even a suspect might present themselves by showing up and acting strangely. No such luck.

We ran. Half the village followed. The old cemetery lay just beyond the northern trees. People stopped at its edge, nobody stepped farther. I pushed through the crowd, then wished I hadn't. Every grave stood open, not broken but opened. The earth had folded back neatly around each one. Wooden coffins rested inside, their lids lay carefully beside them, as though unseen hands had placed them there. The chief stumbled toward the nearest grave, his trembling fingers lifted the lid completely. He looked inside. The color drained from his face.

“When you knocked on the door, I expected you to be Kyra. I expected a gun to be pointed at my chest. I did not expect you and Corina’s head.” “You are really trying to tell me that everyone is dead?” “Come with me.” He rises from his seat and heads to the door. “Let me show you something.” I follow him from his office out through another door that led to a garden. “You can’t smell it because they are buried.” He points to hundreds of plots of heaped dirt. A single rock on top of each pile. His own little graveyard. “Why did you let this happen?” I stare at him in shock.

"Quick bring the jack and the stretcher!!!" Bringing himself out of his thoughts, he wiped the tears in his eyes, Andre stared at him knowing very well that he was thinking about his parents, he did nothing but have a faint smile for the helpless lad. There was a disturbing silence until Etienne spoke: "Andy (Andre for short) let’s do it, let’s go to Sandton"...