Day 1:
“When you step foot in that place, they’ll not be a doubt in your mind that you are on tainted grounds.” That’s what the locals say when referring to Silent Groves Cemetery. I always thought it was bound to have a few mysteries since it is the oldest cemetery in town, standing for some 300 years or more and containing dozens of unmarked graves. However the age and its contents are not the most surprising thing about it, far from it in fact. Locals say that people have attempted to plant trees there before, but none have made it past the sapling stage.
The trees all seem to wither and die without explanation. This has caused the locals to become a bit weary of it. So much so that no one really goes there anymore. That and, well, I probably shouldn’t mention this, but, there were a few documented instances of disappearances related to the place, even detailed reports about the bodies which were found in pieces. Each body was found in an advanced stage of decomposition as well.
They were speculated to be the bodies of some missing teenagers or something. No one knew exactly who they were because they were so badly decomposed that dental records couldn’t even be pulled. The things some people will do for a cheap thrill, huh? Anyways, despite its poor reputation, I’ve never been one to let a mystery go. Which is why I’ve decided to venture out there myself and see if I can’t catch some sort of evidence as to what’s causing this, whether that be a soil sample or what have you, there’s gotta be a scientific explanation, right?
Day 2:
It’s about 2:00 A.M. and, while rolling up on this place a certain feeling has set in. The feeling that I may quickly regret my decision to do this. I just shake it off as a by-product of being in a place like this. A place that’s not very visually pleasing and seems to always have a low-lying white mist about it. I would swear that sometimes I can see the mist take on some recognizable shapes just outside my peripheral.
But, when I turn to look, they dissipate. I have to remind myself that I’m not here to psych myself out, I’m here for answers, answers these townsfolk deserve. When I step inside the gate, I notice a small sensation in my legs, almost like a tiny electrical shock, maybe even a bit of fatigue. I decide to push further. For whatever reason, I decide to stop and look at a headstone, as if it were drawing me in. It reads, “Here lies a man with great malice, one with a vengeance even death may not halt.”
Just as with most of the other headstones, this one has no name. It is quite odd in the way it seems to sort of absorb the light from my flashlight, leaving only a bit behind for me to make out the words. Darkness does strange things to a person’s mind, especially this type of darkness. It causes what looks like movement where there is none and makes you a bit paranoid at no real danger. At least, I think there’s no real danger.
It’s kind of hard to say because, now, standing in front of this particular grave, the mist seems to have engulfed me and the lettering on the headstone looks like it’s changing. I hit my flashlight, making it shine a bit brighter only to be utterly disgusted by what the headstone now reads. “You’ll rot with us,” it says. This is more than enough to send me running back to my car, but I quickly find that to be impossible as the ground has now turned to some kind of sticky black goo. As if that weren’t bad enough, the fatigue seems to be worsening with every step I take.
It emanates from my joints. I look down at my legs to be met with the sight of what seems to be mold creeping up them. Soon, my right leg begins to break off. And then, my left. I soon hit the ground, upon which, I notice my elbows and wrists doing the same, literally withering away. I’m powerless to do anything as, soon, all of my extremities have fallen away from my body and the ground swallows me whole.
The last sight I see is that of the headstone, which now reads, “Soon, we’ll break everyone at the seams, our spread has begun.”