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If You Find His Grave, Leave Him Be
by Naching T. Kassa 

Leon crouched among the tombstones and trembled.

The old mining town, abandoned long ago, rose from the tall grass before him. Grey clouds gathered in the sky, blotting out the sun and casting a pall over the graveyard. The air grew cold, much too cold for a sunny August day.

The tombstone he sheltered behind seemed to thrum with energy. For the third time, he read the inscription on it.

Here lies Bear-Strangler McGee

If you find his grave, leave him be.

Don’t knock over the stone near the Sycamore tree,

If you do, he’ll carve up the first man he sees.

The Sycamore was nothing more than a broken stump now, but it was still there. It stood to the left of the tombstone, its dead roots but inches away. Leon rose to his feet, took a deep breath and kicked the tombstone over as hard as he could. The marker upended and fell back into the grass. He backed away.

A figure coalesced above the marker, a swirling creature, more shadow than man. Cruel eyes appeared, followed by an unforgiving frown. The ghost howled, a thin, bloodcurdling sound.

Leon ran.

He rushed out of the graveyard, his booted feet pounding the ground. He’d only gone a few yards when he heard the shots. A woman screamed.

“Ma!” he cried, and hurried on, mindful of the rocky trail and the pitfalls it held. If he fell it might mean a broken arm or neck. The thought of lying there, at the mercy of the ghost, was more than he could bear.

Darkness seemed to follow him down the trail and he could feel the frigid air at his back. Leon glanced over his shoulder and almost stumbled. The ghost was close, flying straight at him. It would catch him soon and no man, nor boy, could outrun a ghost.

His mother screamed again, closer now, and Leon poured on what speed he had left.

When he reached the bottom of the trail, a pair of strong arms caught him. And even though he scrambled to escape them, they held him tight.

“Where you been, you little shit,” the man snarled. His breath stank of whisky and rot. Leon glimpsed his mother, sobbing over the body of his grandfather, the sleeve of her gingham dress soaked with blood.

Leon stared into the hateful eyes of his stepfather.

And grinned.

The ghost rushed down upon them and Leon managed to tear himself from his stepfather’s grip. He fell into the hard dirt and rolled away as the ghost unleashed its cold fury upon the man. His mother encircled him with her arms, drawing him to her.

Leon covered his ears until the shrieking had ceased.

Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

More from Naching T. Kassa:

Arterial Bloom

Lush. Brutal.

Beautiful. Visceral.

Crystal Lake Publishing proudly presents Arterial Bloom, an artful juxtaposition of the magnificence and macabre that exist within mankind. Each tale in this collection is resplendent with beauty, teeth, and heart.

Edited by the Bram Stoker Award-winning writer Mercedes M. Yardley, Arterial Bloom is a literary experience featuring sixteen stories from some of the most compelling dark authors writing today.

With a foreword by HWA Lifetime Achievement Award Recipient Linda D. Addison, you are invited to step inside and let the grim flowers wind themselves comfortably around your bones.

Available on Amazon!