Short Horror Stories

Grave Digging

This one's from xXMadleenXx ! Thanks so much for the suggestion :) didn't know what it was called so made up another amazingly imaginative name...

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My brother Tony had been in jail for 5 years. He had come home 3 night ago, and he and I sat together in my room.

"Hey, you know that cemetery where all the rich people are buried?" He said to me.

"Uh... Yeah, I think so." I frowned at him. I knew he was talking about the cemetery down the street, the one where everyone who was anyone was buried.

"I'm going to raid one of the graves tonight. And your coming with me."

I blinked, and opened my mouth to object, then paused. I couldn't object, cause if I did, I knew he would kick my ass and call me embarrassing names in front of all my friends. Then again, I hated creepy stuff. I'd probably have nightmares about it for weeks if I went with him.

"Uh...I dunno. Fine, okay." I said quickly when I saw a smirk appear on his face at my cowardliness.

We climbed over the high fence, with our shovels in hand. We found a grave he liked and began digging.

It took us a full 2 hours till we finally made it to the coffin, and I was sweaty as anything. The full moon crept high in the sky and the stars were speckled in the night. He hit the lock with his shovel and broke it, then slowly opened up the coffin with a loud creak. A skeleton lay in there. Jewelry and gold buried it and a large diamond necklace lay upon its bong neck.

Then I saw it.

Three silver bullets.

Tony looked at me with wide eyes. "Run."

"Wai- what?"

"WE'VE GOT TO RUN! GRAB THE BULLETS!"

I heard a low growl come from the skeleton, and without stopping to think I grabbed the bullets and ran.

I sprinted towards the gate, but was stopped by the screaming of my brother. I turned around and saw him, his torso in the mouth of a giant, wolf-like beast.

"TONY!" I yelled with tears blocking my vision.

The werewolf turned and locked its eyes on me, and fear grasped my heart. I started to climb the large fence, but was stopped by the feeling of teeth grabbing onto my leg.

Without turning back, I violently pulled my leg from its mouth and threw myself over the fence.

I never talked about it again.

People asked what happened at the funeral, but I wouldn't tell them. No words could perfectly describe that night. There wasn't any point in trying.