R
NATASHA MANGALAM
IX GPS(I)
It was a dark, dark night. The wind was whistling
in my ears, the leaves where whispering- a kind
of warning, as if I was not to go ahead. But
what could I do? I had lost my way and had no
choice but to go on. The sudden echoing hoot
of a glassy eyed owl brought me back to my
senses. There was an old gate right in front of
me, which looked like it had not been crossed
in years, moss sprouting all over it, wines
and ivy long and thick, twisting and turning
around the cold, metallic bars, strangling them
with their long, prickly green fingers. I pushed
past the creaky gate and went in, ignoring the
foreboding voice of my conscience, screaming
at me to run for my life. As I walked slowly,
cautiously, I heard the cracking of twigs
beneath my feet, largely magnified through
the large, empty area. I could hear, somewhere
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in the distance, a lone wolf howling for its
pack- like me. There were old grey tombstones,
towering above me, surrounding me, crushing
me, choking me. Previously the owners of dead,
decaying bodies, they were now the homes
of little critters, like millipedes, and spiders
dangling from their cobwebs, feasting on their
long dead victims. The stench of death was
all over the place. Suddenly, out of the corner
of my eyes, I saw something move. A flash of
white. For the first time, my voice failed me. I
stood there in shock, muscles stiff, not being
able to move, unable to scream, or even let out
a little whine, staring into the depths of a dark
hedge, from which I had just seen something
abnormal, something that was never meant to
be there...............................
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