Gothic short stories
The graveyard was dark and shadowed; tulips lined the cobblestone pathway that led to the mausoleum, looming darkly against the feeble moon.
I strode through the graveyard, glancing nervously around at the shadows that lay thick upon the graves like a shroud. Tulips, protruding like withered stakes from the ground, lined the pathway, and I could smell their sickly-sweet odor as I approached the mausoleum, looming above me like a forbidding monument to the feeble moon above.
“Rachel!” I cried out, my voice shattering the silence but failing to carry, swallowed as it was by the thick mist that was rolling in. Though I was certainly afraid of what dark powers might be lurking, hidden in the threatening mist, I was more afraid of what might happen to Rachael if I left her alone with the thing that had brought her to this darkened graveyard.
Gusts of wind shook the door violently, I heard a shriek from around the corner of the mausoleum and a distant door close with sudden fury, felt for the first time the danger that was lurking. I trod as softly but impatiently yet looked back frequently to see if I was being followed. My blood curdled as I forced the door open, the windows seemed to be in motion, it could be nothing but the violence of the wind penetrating through the divisions of the shutters. Brilliant moonlight along the floor shone like pearls, and I left footsteps marking where I had disturbed long accumulation of dust.
The ghastly silence made my body flinch whenever I felt an inhuman presence, choking me to the ground.
In the moonlight, opposite me, I saw a ghostly figure whistling mournfully, approaching, approaching and it stretched its arm towards me. The ghost was pale, transparent; colored a white so pure and unblemished that it was utterly see-through. In a moment, a ghost’s ice-cold hand touched my skin, the intense horror of came over me. I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and most melancholy voice sobbed, “Help me, help
I strode through the graveyard, glancing nervously around at the shadows that lay thick upon the graves like a shroud. Tulips, protruding like withered stakes from the ground, lined the pathway, and I could smell their sickly-sweet odor as I approached the mausoleum, looming above me like a forbidding monument to the feeble moon above.
“Rachel!” I cried out, my voice shattering the silence but failing to carry, swallowed as it was by the thick mist that was rolling in. Though I was certainly afraid of what dark powers might be lurking, hidden in the threatening mist, I was more afraid of what might happen to Rachael if I left her alone with the thing that had brought her to this darkened graveyard.
Gusts of wind shook the door violently, I heard a shriek from around the corner of the mausoleum and a distant door close with sudden fury, felt for the first time the danger that was lurking. I trod as softly but impatiently yet looked back frequently to see if I was being followed. My blood curdled as I forced the door open, the windows seemed to be in motion, it could be nothing but the violence of the wind penetrating through the divisions of the shutters. Brilliant moonlight along the floor shone like pearls, and I left footsteps marking where I had disturbed long accumulation of dust.
The ghastly silence made my body flinch whenever I felt an inhuman presence, choking me to the ground.
In the moonlight, opposite me, I saw a ghostly figure whistling mournfully, approaching, approaching and it stretched its arm towards me. The ghost was pale, transparent; colored a white so pure and unblemished that it was utterly see-through. In a moment, a ghost’s ice-cold hand touched my skin, the intense horror of came over me. I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and most melancholy voice sobbed, “Help me, help