Short scary stories

Town's cemetery

In the heart of a small town, nestled among ancient oak trees, stood a cemetery shrouded in mystery and darkness. The townsfolk whispered tales of the restless spirits that haunted its hallowed grounds, warning one another never to venture inside after sundown.

The only person allowed in after dusk was the night guard, Samuel. An old man, hardened by time, and skeptical to the ghost stories. He had worked in the premises for decades, seeing people comming in to never leave, but never once experienced anything.

One moonlit evening, Samuel was wondering between the mossy tombstones, his keys tinkling in his belt. He was shinning the flashlight within the shadows, watching was they scattered throught the ground.

The atmosphere was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind. The old man could feel his chest tightening, pushing the oxygen out of his lungs. He looked around, a thin fog beginning to dance around the trees, settling an icy sensation. 

The sound of metal slamming took him out of his thoughts. He whipped his head around to see the rusty gate shaking close. After it the silence was gone, replaced by the sound of kick stepts entering further into the cemetery. 

Samuel started to run towards the noice, shouting for whoever was there to stop. He was used to have teenagers playing brave and comming to make rituals or search for ghosts.

He stopped at the old part of the cemetery, beyond the trees and surrounded by a small brick wall. Samuel could see a dim light comming from there, taking cautious steps closer. A stone cross stood tall on a pedestal in the middle, nature slowly claming it. Six black candles were lit on the bottom of it and a shallow chanting filled the air.

The man froze in place, watching in disbelief as a cortege strolled closer. Their heads were low, covered by a thin veil, and the clothes from a former period of time. The whispers carried by the wind became clear, forming mournful voices of loss and longing.

They were being led by a woman, standing a few feet in from the others. Her hands were cupped in front of her chest, holding a rosary that dangled to her knees. Samuel focused his gaze in the jewelery, reconizing an upsidedown croos at the end.

A gasp of dispared left his lips, prompting the woman to turn her head in his direction. Her eyes glowed with a haunting intensity, fixated in Samuel. Her ghostly face traced her bones, allowing the light almost go through them.

The man didn't try to look for a explanation, he knew what he had just seen wasn't from this world. He ran, as fast as his tired legs could, back to the safety of the city lights.

As he reached the threshold of the cemetery, the spirits' wailing cries echoed in his ears, growing fainter with each step. Finally, his hands reached the gate, swinging it shut as he fell back on the ground.

From that night on, Samuel never spoke of his harrowing encounter. The memory of the cemetery's restless spirits haunted his dreams, a constant reminder of the thin veil between the living and the dead. And the townsfolk, forever grateful for their lives untouched by the cemetery's horrors, continued to warn others of the dark secrets that lay buried within its boundaries.