The Cold Wind
It was the time of Hallows Eve. The night was cold, and the wind’s icy fingers crawled under my coat as I walked home. Now, I am not one that is easily frightened, but the mystery of Hallows Eve even loomed in my mind that night.
The dark was as black as death, and the comforting lights of home flickered far away. I considered lighting my candle, but I knew the wind would disapprove.
The road ahead of me was familiar, but in the dark of this haunted night it seemed sinister. I quickened my pace, for who would want to be stuck out here? Not I, not I.
A shiver ran through me. The stars glittered far above, but too far to be comforting. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck, grateful for the warmth.
Suddenly, I found myself on the ground. The wind was blowing harder yet, like a chorus of howling wolves. My foot stung, I had caught it on a small rock. Leaning closer to the ground, I saw that the rock I had tripped upon was much bigger than a small pebble. I was staring at a gravestone.
My mind whirled. How had I ended up in the graveyard? Where was the familiar path to my comfortable abode?
I slowly rose to my feet and looked around. What were those moaning sounds? Where was the whistling tune coming from? Was it my head, or was there something surrounding me?
I sucked in my breath and started to leave. I would need to find the road soon. It was getting late.
Something in the back of my head told me that I wasn’t alone. Turning slowly on the spot, I watched it pounce and saw no more.