Sunday, October 17, 2010

Eyes in the Graveyard by Jack Sorenson

When Eibhlin was young lady she was held hostage in an old dark graveyard of Dusk Springs Wyoming, drawing a deep breath of the chilly autumn air to calm herself striving at one more attempted to chase the ghost with the key. She had been unable to leave the graveyard because of a ghost that will not allowed the gates to re-open. The ghost of the graveyard has kept Eibhlin as his hostage. She is angry for she asks the ghost for many months for the key he has held from her. Eibhlin spent time trying to out fox this ghost with common sense to playful games. This is Eibhlin's story.

Eibhlin found it did nothing more than make her shudder uncontrollably. The ghostly trickery hid many false looking keys for Eibhlin to find to the events or circumstances that operate for or against an individual when it came to unlocking the cemetery main gates. She wished she was dressed in something heavier than a white blouse and mini skirt, and black thin stripier high heels but she knew that chill would have penetrated to her bones. She came here to Dusk Springs Cemetery for she had a dream. A dream that keep repeating it self over and over again in her sleep. She had been better off to have not left the safety of an Old Church of Slavic. There it was worm days and moon filled nights twinkling stars that light the many homes near by the old Church. Too much of the coldness swelled from within, frosted guilt at the steps she'd taken to right a wrong. Steps that warned her if she went through with what she'd futurist about to be .She would be no better than the ghost she despised. Revenge was in her cold heart.

Wrapping her arms about herself, she fought to rein her recurring dream fearing the worst but every tiny noise from the Cemetery made her start and wonder if the ghost would kill her when he was done playing his deathly games. The eerie ghostly games have brought her to a bloody mess smelling her dry blood she covered in from her lover last and final blows. The passion of a Lover. I smile
sometimes although my grief be great, to hear and see these lovers paint their pain, And how they can in pleasant rimes repeated, the passing pangs, which they in fancies faint. But if I had such skill to frame a verse, I could more pain than all their pangs rehearse.

But if I had such skill to frame a verse, I could more pain than all their pangs rehearse.

An aspen leaf crackled beneath her high-heels. The hard pack held a varnish of frost and to either side the darkened shapes of ash and fir, maple and spruce, swayed under an iced breeze. Shadows distorted, weaving into menacing shapes that seemed to claw at her legs. This ghost will not let her go for he’s the reoccurring dream he the lost lover Eibhlin was meet to have.

Edging just above the trees, the blood-colored eyelids see it’s an October moon glazed the leaf- and pine needle-blanketed ground with tarnished light. Her icy breath puffed out in frosty ghosts shapes that danced as they leaped into the headstones line one by one each breath dance out another ghost disappearing into the graves of old. “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, which frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'who am I to be lock away in Dusk Springs Wyoming, actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small games with me do not serve the world or just me.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest and I feel as you dies long ago you should of gone to the glory of God not stayed hear that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” You go to the light and leave me the right key to unlock my doomed and sorrow hear can be both I feel so.

She stopped, heart jumping into her throat, a small sound of fright escaping her full lips. Her amethyst eyes widened with worry, seeing the rest of the Cemetery as she turned her head to peer at the trail behind her. A curvy stretch of rust and black-leading into the ebony distance met her gaze, but nothing else stood in her way. No key was need now, no gates appeared to be. She had touched his heart and was let to go free.

A light formed on the Cemetery ground near by her feet. Swiveling a dizzily compiling special effect to come forward, she caught herself holding her breath and forced it out only seeing nothing this time the icy frost head for the light. Had she seen something? A dark whisper adorned her lips next? She could have sworn it had come from somewhere behind her, a harsh hiss from that light that spoke her name. Behind the huge marble headstone she heard an eerie voice.

No, that was impossible. She was alone out here; alone and more frightened than she could ever recall being. The ghost that held her captive all this time just stood their with his huge shoulders at a surge.
A crashing of brush made her start; Headstones toppling over in a row and jump she swore her feet came inches from falling off her heels from the mere fright. Her heart pounded and she spun, around three times as the sound continued, retreating into the graveside hills.

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