extract one

Tuesday 30^th April – 11.55 pm

The four young men laughed and joked as they pushed and groped their way around the mist-covered graveyard, pulling the grass away from the weather-beaten stones and trying to read the age-old inscriptions. Years of neglect had made the place an unwelcoming sight. The headstones were crumbling and covered in moss, and the mounds themselves were indistinguishable from the paths, so high grew the grass and weeds. A grinning moon shined down from a clear, still sky, casting eerie shadows here and there; but none of the group were unnerved by their hostile surroundings, or the deathly quiet of the vacant atmosphere.

‘What sort of place is this you’ve brought us to, Damien’ asked Mike.

‘I thought there was gonna be something interesting here.’ He threw an empty beer can down and kicked it into the distance, lighting another cigarette.

‘I’d rather picnic in Highgate any day. At least it’s got legends, at least there’s some interesting people buried there.’

‘Yeah, I’m not hanging about here,’ said Chas, ‘there’s no ghosts or nothing here. Let’s get back to the hotel. Stan, where are you?’

Stan was lying down on one of the mounds; he rose up, grinning and emitting an evil laugh ‘Behold, I have arisen.’

‘Very good Stan, you ought to be on the stage.’

Leaving by the north exit of the now unused Garden of Eternal rest, the four young men found themselves upon a narrow track. This too looked as if no feet had trod it for many a year. Having nothing better to do (they had arrived in this remote village that morning and tonight was an evening off), they followed its winding path to the brow of a hill. From here, doubtless, by day, one could see far into the quaint village below - a village from which many legends had begun and prospered, and a place which still held many dark secrets. By the light of darkness, little was visible. All curtains were drawn and the ill-let streets were empty. No-one ventured out on nights such as this.

Taking their bearings, the four stood upon the hill-top, gazing into blackness, their vision aided only by a waning moon. Beyond them and to the left and right, the barely distinguishable rough and pitted track continued its paths into the unknown. To one side, a surprisingly well-preserved gibbet stood. Suspended from it, a rope noose swung gently back and forwards.

‘Bet they haven’t used this in years.’ Chas was jumping up unsuccessfully trying to reach the hanging bar.

‘Oh I wouldn’t count on it – strange lot round here.’

‘What was that weird old witch back at the guesthouse trying to warn you about?’

‘Oh, I dunno, some old superstition.’

The four continued their larking about on the hill-top. Far of in the distance, the village clock struck twelve midnight.

‘Here, what’s this …?’ Chas had landed on a piece of raised ground. A small stone protruded from the earth.

‘Looks like someone’s buried here.’

‘Must have been someone who was hung here.’

Mike was trying to decipher the crudely-engraved inscription.

‘Hic Iacet

Otto Czobor

1748-1777

Felo de Se

‘Oh yeah, what does that mean?’

‘Don’t ask me, I don’t speak Romanian.’

‘Arise, Arise, Arise …’ Stan and Chas were marching backwards around the stone.

‘No, anticlockwise,’ said Mike. ‘Like this, that’s right, isn’t it, Damien?’

Damien said nothing, but looked on in dismay as the others continued their marching and chanting.

‘Arise, Arise

In Nomine Patri, Filli et Diabli.

Arise, arise.’

‘Arise. Resurrect.’

Stan and Chas followed.

‘Rise up oh Dark One,

Master of the Night,

Of all things unholy,

Of all things unbright

Come, rise up (arise, resurrect)

We quest to bring you life

On this darkened eve

On this wondrous night

(Aise. Resurrect)

The Resurrection Dance’

‘Stop it, you lot. Stop it.’ Damien sounded worried.

‘Christ, we’re only having a bit of fun – there’s no harm in it. It’s only a song. Probably not even anyone buried there. Five … six … seven … That’s it lads. That should have woken him.’

Damien pushed past them and knelt at the small stone, eyes closed, muttering.

The other three were unconcerned.

‘Come on, let’s get back. That ogre of a landlady will have locked us out.’

‘Doubt it, she’ll probably be out on her broomstick, trying to wake the dead.’

‘Yes, I wouldn’t like to meet her on a dark night. You coming, Damien?’

The four young men slowly made their way back to the small, but comfortable hotel.