Graveside Walk

"A gripping, exciting, creepy and short Creepypasta from our guest blogger Carla" - Liv Strub


It wasn’t that late, but it was darker than I wanted it to be as I cut through the cemetery close to home.


Thankfully the rain had stopped, although threatening clouds were suspended in the indigo sky, blocking any stars. The moon peeped out every now and again to observe me as I strolled along the pavement. It chose the moment as I pushed the tiny gate that opened into the cemetery to hide away again, the milky light suddenly disappearing and leaving me with an oppressively dark and unnaturally still “land of the dead” that I had to walk through.


I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans, averted my gaze down and away from the stern headstones and walked as fast as I could without breaking into a run.


The cemetery had always made me feel nervous.


Instead of following the narrow path that bordered the cemetery all the way round, I decided to take a quicker route and cut along the grass to get to the gate on the other side.


The blades of grass were wet from the rain, clinging to my trainers and squelching underneath my feet.


Something suddenly swooped into my vision, low and fleeting. I jumped back, heard myself gasp.


I squinted my eyes, trying to see what it was in the dark haze, my heart beating rapidly.


Black and darting back and forth, it disappeared near the church roof.


A bat, I realised, laughing softly.


I continued walking and I was about two-thirds across when a quiet voice stopped me in my tracks.


‘I’m not ready to sleep.’


They were the words that caused my heart to momentarily stop beating, to turn my blood into ice. And they were the words that would continue to haunt me for a long time afterwards.


A child’s voice. A boy.


The words had come from all around me; behind, above, whispered directly into my ear. Impossible. But still, I spun on the spot, searching the shadows, the silence roaring in my ears or possibly it was the rushing of my blood.


I opened my mouth to say something, but thought better of it.


There was something about the stillness of the graveyard that disturbed me. Not a rustle in the trees, no scurrying of little animals or whistling of birds, not even a slight breeze. For a brief moment it felt like I’d stepped onto an unknown planet where I was unsure of what to expect next.


The headstones were too tall, solemn and looming high above me. I had a thought that maybe something was lurking behind one of them, watching me and waiting.


I suddenly had an overwhelming awareness of all the dead bodies just a few feet away from me, underground.


Rotting, decaying, gone forever.


But what about their souls? All those memories. What happened to their thoughts and dreams and fears?


I had to get out of there. I felt claustrophobic, like everything was closing in on me. A smothering blackness, heavy and pressing down.


I searched for the gate and began to move towards it.


The shadows stirred at the edge of my vision like hulking beasts.


Black shapes leaked from the headstones, stretching towards me.


My heart was fluttering, I opened my mouth to scream.


‘I’m not ready to sleep.’


The words hit me again, the force of them sending me to my knees.


The force from inside of me.


My voice, my words.


It had been me that had said them. Always had been.


I tried to grab blades of grass, to feel them in my hand, to clutch on to the world.


But there was nothing there, my fingers found nothing but emptiness.


I was melting into the ground, or the darkness, or whatever there was…


I felt myself drifting to sleep.



Thanks for reading.




By Carla @writecarla

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