The Sounds of Laughter
A thick, pale fog oozed about the ground casting eerie reflections of the cold moon’s light. I slowly walked, and as I did, I listened to the almost silent sound of my feet treading on dead leaves. The movement of my legs felt automated, as if there were a puppeteer above me toying with my strings. All was chillingly calm here, nothing but I stirred. I gazed about me, in every direction.
All the tombstones appeared old, worn, and beaten by weather. Many were completely covered by moss, and some were crumbled into large piles of broken debris. Those that weren’t covered with moss or broken into pieces were worn to the point of being illegible. Although the cemetery was old and probably filled with years of buried history, none of the grave sites held my attention. I walked on through the first acre of dark, empty space until I came upon a small grassy hill. On top of the hill was a solitary tombstone, standing lonely beneath the shadows of a gnarled tree bough. This stone caught my attention.
I climbed the small incline and stood before the stone. This one seemed in much better condition than the ones at the bottom of the hill. I knelt down in front of it, making sure not to plant my knees in the freshly turned dirt. Apparently, this grave was fresh.
I reached forward and ran my hand along the top of the tombstone, feeling the surprisingly smooth stone. I couldn’t see the engraving clearly, so I felt it with my fingers, hoping that I could feel my way through the words. That didn’t work. I didn’t have a flashlight, a lighter or a lantern of any kind so reading the name on the stone was impossible. I prepared to get on my feet and leave, but the light of the moon blazed through the darkness right onto the face of the stone, how it made it through the tree, I do not know. I sat back on my heels and looked at the face of the tombstone.
The shadows and the moonlight danced across the engraved words. I sat forward and squinted at the words in the hopes that I could finally read them. I leaned a little closer, squinted a little more, and still couldn’t make out the words. Finally, I crawled forward placing my knees in the fresh soil, and leaned close enough to the stone to smell the grit. The words were very clear now.
Life held her
Death took her
Breath left her
The grave keeps her.
I read the words, but didn’t understand them. What could they mean? I sat back on my heels again, and put my palm to my head. I rubbed my forehead feeling that something was wrong. What could the words possibly mean?
A piercing scream rent the air, sending terrifying echoes through the deep night. My heart stopped in my chest. I was soon to realize that the scream had come from me. Finally, I understood. Finally I knew what it meant. I had inadvertently peered upon my own epitaph. I was buried here. The freshly turned earth that I knelt upon, held my decaying remains.
From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a shadowy figure move past me on my right. I wasn’t alone in this cemetery anymore. Somewhere in the darkness, someone was watching me.
Without warning, a dark figure jumped down from the gnarled tree bough above, slightly outside the sphere of moonlight. I quickly got to my feet, once there I stood stock still hoping that whatever was out there hadn’t seen met yet. My hopes were dashed, and quickly. The figure before me was tall, with a reed-like physique. Here, we stood face to cloaked face. I wish that I could say that I was numb, but I could feel fear; spine melting fear.
I stood petrified, and watched as the thing before me reached an astonishingly bony hand towards my sweat drenched face, and lit a match. The light burned low. Then, as if by magic, a torch appeared and the skeletal hand lit it ablaze.
Finally, the darkness was vanquished. I could see. Oh God. Before me, on the fresh grave, stood the veiled form of the embodied Death. Its eyes were hollowed sockets of night, and its bony jaws were set, in what could only be interpreted, as a ghastly grin. I could only stare in horror as it slowly reached out for me.
My mind was sluggish, but my heart was beating rapidly enough to be felt through my clothes. My heart screamed to my drowsy brain, “Run!” I was very relieved when it obeyed.
I ran back towards the entrance of the cemetery. But I was no match for the supernatural speed of Death. It sprang out before me and I collided with its hard form. I clumsily backed away and prepared to run again, but, as if reading my thoughts, it grabbed tight to my shoulder. I wanted to scream but all I could do was stare into the depths of its sockets. It had some sort of hold over me. I didn’t like this at all.
Before I could vomit from the fear, Death began to laugh. A small giggle at first, but it became steadily louder. From a giggle it became a cackle. From a cackle it became at an outright chuckle. What?! Death was laughing at me? I started to scream. This mind splitting scream shook the air around me like a bomb. But no matter how loud or desperate my screams, they were soon drowned out by the diabolical laughter of the living corpse. What in the world was happening?
I couldn’t take it anymore. Soon I was overcome with the utter lunacy of my night so far, and found myself laughing with it. I became a raving maniac, my laughter resounded with the shrill echo of impending insanity. I laughed along with Death for, perhaps, five minutes before the only one that was laughing was me. I looked over at Death and found that it was staring at me, wickedly. I ceased laughing as its sockets lit up with a greenish fire.
It began to laugh again, but this time, with every laugh it came closer to me. From out of its jagged jaws spewed a slime of the most rancid kind. I had to put my hand to my mouth to keep the food from leaving my stomach. Death’s entire frame reeked of decay, and its eyes stared steadily down at me.
I couldn’t stand there and deal with this anymore. With much agony, I broke free of its strong grasp and sprinted, with all my strength, towards the gates. I know you’re not supposed to look back in a race, but I did, and I saw Death taking on the shape of a large black dog. It quickly gained on me. I never had a chance. The gates were inches from my fingertips, but I never had a chance. Death leapt at me, pinning me onto the ground, and forcing my face into the gravel. It crouched growling over me. But alas, it wasn’t growling it was lowly chuckling.
With dust in my eyes, and my throat burning from my run I was definitely no match for this hellish hound. I closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for the feeling of its jaws ripping into my exposed neck. I waited, but nothing happened. I took a breath, but the air was clear of dust. I swallowed the saliva that had gathered in my mouth, but it didn’t burn my throat. Something was different. I slowly opened my eyes. What I saw was as relieving as it was surprising.
I was no longer planted face down in the gravel of a cemetery, I was lying with my face in the floral covering of my pillow case. I sat up quickly. I was wearing my nightgown, the one that my Aunt had given me for graduation, but it didn’t have a spot of dirt on it. I ran my hands over my blankets; they seemed very real beneath my hands. In the twilight I could see the shapes and silhouettes of the things in my room. I could make out the form of my cat, sleeping on top of my desk.
The cemetery was gone. Death was gone. It must have been a dream. A very scary, very real dream. I took a deep breath and looked around my room again. Everything seemed fine. Nothing was out of place, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I ran my fingers through my hair and began to lie back down on my pillow.
But something happened that made me still my movements. From out of the corner of my eye, I’m sure I saw a shadowy figure cross the light of my window. I gasped then held my breath. The night was silent in my room, but I could swear that in the distance, somewhere in the night outside, the eerie sound of laughter could be heard.
