The full moon loomed pale green in the liquid ink night. The graveyard markers dotted the black soil in random patterns. Some broken and tilted from age, they told the names of the once living souls below. It was midnight.

It was a long walk and the group of six was intent in their journey.

“You hold the fence up while we crawl under,” said the one that had been there before.

“Are you sure it’s safe here?” The male fence holder remarked.

“Yes, there’s no one here. The roadway used to go past but, it was closed down many years ago.”

“This is truly a strange place,” one of the female companions crawled under the rusty chain link fence.

“Look at the house. Is it out of your worst nightmare or what? Said another.”

The 150 year old house stared at its visitors, its windows serving as eyes, seemed to blink.

“Forget the house look at the graveyard, these old dates, Edna Thelma Hines, 1849 — 1913, Gone but not Forgotten, with a name like that how could we forget?”

“Look at this one, Victor Lugar Hines, 1822 — 1897, Rest in Peace, fat chance in this place.”

“So this is the old Hines Mansion? Weren’t they crazy?” The first female walks toward the house.

“Yeah, very crazy. I heard they locked people in the basement.”

Everyone looked at the basement windows, an old curtain blew from a breeze through a cracked glass pane, it waved a greeting.

“Wow, okay you were right this is a very scary place,” the second female rested against an old statute. “Lets go back.”

“Why, your not afraid are you?” Her boyfriend asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I have you.”

“First lets rest before we go back,” the leader takes the group toward the porch of the old mansion. He sits down on an old swing and motions the rest to sit on adjacent chairs. He takes out a candle and places it on a near by table. I brought a book, I’d like to read a story before we leave. It will be a nice way to spend an October Night.”

The group watches while he takes an old book out of his pocket. ‘Scary Stories’ the title reads.

“Okay, here we go, whose for reading about Bigfoot? A huge hairy monster chased me through the forest,” the reader continues, ” he caught and tore at the cloth of my jacket. The next day his prints could be seen around my cabin windows.

“Wow, Bigfoot. I believe in that. My uncle said he saw one up in the Louisiana swamps when he was a kid. He told us all kind of stories.”

“What else do you have,” asked the first female.

“Okay lets see, The Haunted Mansion,” he reads, turning to a page. “Every time I laid on the bed, even though I knew I was alone, I could feel someone else climb on the mattress with me. When I looked no one was there.”

“It was a ghost,” answered one.

“Oh, my goodness,” the second female asked. “How do you know?”

“I know about haunted houses.”

“I always thought they were demons,” said a person that had been quiet, up until now.

Almost everyone looked at the quiet person like he had taken leave of his senses.

Somewhere in the distance the sound of a howling dog pierced the silence.

“Well, that is kind of commonplace,” the reader comments. “Let me see, The Lochness Monster.”

I’ve seen pictures of him, he’s a sea serpent, a very old one that still lives.”

“Wow,” said the group.

The candle light flickered on the face of the reader, “I brought an ancient mummy back to life and learned the secrets of reincarnation.”

“Cool,” said the group.

“I really like this one, ‘How to be a Vampire,’ make new friends.”

“Nab, too messy, always needing all that blood.”

“Here’s a good one, lets try this one,” the reader read on. “The Space Ship, I was abducted by an aliens. The knowledge in my brain was sucked out by an outer space creature.”

“Hey, you know there has to be something else out there,” the first female looks up at the sky just in time to catch sight of a falling star.

“Of course there’s something else out there,” the second female shakes her head.

“All kinds of people have seen UFO’s, you know they exist,” the graveyard leader gave a knowing glance around the group.

“Well, I didn’t mean unidentified flying objects. I meant Jesus.”

“What are you talking about? Jesus?” The reader seems irritated. “Are we going to talk about a myth? Count me out.”

“A myth?” The fence holder blows out the candle, leaving the moon glow to light the area. “Did a myth light that?” He points to the sky. Did a myth hang the stars? Make you and I? Form this planet? He’s not a myth but, we can talk about other myths why would you not want talk about that?”

“Hey,” answered the reader. “I thought we were going to have some fun, not talk about anything offensive.”

“Offensive? The Mummy is not offensive? Aliens? Vampires? You came here to show us the house of a crazy person,” the second female stands up. “Wouldn’t that be offensive? Who is behind that abnormal feeling of offense? Isn’t it suspicious that you’re offended by something that’s not offensive and not by what is? Why wouldn’t you be curious about that, if your so curious?”

“Makes no sense that people get so upset over that topic? It’s like some inner unexplained desire wants to strike out in uncharacteristic outrage over something that’s not even an insult. Someone is fueling that attitude. Why else would they feel it?” The fence holder continues. “If someone is fueling that feeling, then why and who would it be?”

“I always thought it was demons,” said the one that had been mostly quiet, up until now.

Almost everyone looked at him, like he had just taken leave of his senses. In the distance a lone dog howled, piercing the silence.

By Marjeana Martin BlueAngelBabie@aol.com