Remnants of the Past

Mummified

Mummified

Michael found himself in the cemetery shivering in the cold night air. Like an overstuffed pinata, his gut was bursting with fear at the thought of who might strike. Never had he been a believer in ghosts and goblins, but until now the risk of finding out the truth had been minimal. An eerie night spent in death's garden had him questioning his beliefs. His mind was busy projecting shadowy images to culture the newfound fear. Michael spoke aloud to remind himself that he was alone without imaginary beasts stalking him. In his hand, he gripped the cross pendant given to him by his mother at confirmation. He chastised himself for accepting the challenge by his friends to come to the graveyard.

Michael had always been a fan of spooky movies. He was the first to call attention to the implausibility of the story, pointing out the ill-advised actions of by the minor characters slaughtered in the early scenes Laughable were the brainless antics of the actors tromping alone in the woods on Halloween or the perky breasted actresses stripping naked just before the clever slices her gullet. At just seventeen, Michael dreamed of writing the perfect tale of horror. He would refuse to follow the cliche of his predecessors of horror, making his script believable. But here in this dark and lonely cemetery, Michael was creating his own tale of woe and he wondered if he would live to the ripe old age of eighteen. The shadows were closing in on him and he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Michael had taken the challenge alone.

"Mikey, how stupid are you? Letting two numbnuts like Gabe and Max talk you into this trek?" he whispered under his breath.

The challenge was open-ended, with Michael able to complete the task on any night of his choosing. He had insisted on it so he could be sure that his friends wouldn't be lurking about to scare him. It sounded to Michael just like something they would do, so he kept his visit tonight a secret. Proof of his bravery would come from a picture on his phone of a yellow daisy laid on the tombstone of the old high school principal.

Due to his Christian upbringing and personal civility, his path through the cemetery kept him from stomping on the graves. He hoped to avoid incurring the wrath of the dearly departed. He reasoned that this method would leave him with only haunted souls or living cretins to contend with in the darkness of the night.

"So they called you chicken? What do you do? Traipse around hunting dead people? Making every mistake caught on tape of every low budget horror flick And no one even knows I'm here. Brainy move, Mikey!"

As he continued walking, he cursed the names of his friends and himself for the lunacy that brought him here. Retreat crossed his mind but he refused to give in to the cowardice. Thoughts rattled through his head conjuring up images of all the creatures he could possibly encounter. Being a movie buff, only added to the possible monster count. Fear comes at the age of reason and the realization that there are things to fear. Michael had long since passed that age and began to tremble with the worry of unknown forces found in the cemetery. He tried desperately to curtail the unhelpful spectrum of his frightful ideas. So jumbled was his mind, his pace unknowingly quickened. It was the cause of him failing to notice the red and yellow music box that tripped him. He fell to the ground with a thud, unaware of what had happened. Soft from recent rains the earth's soil wrapped around his body like a taco shell holding him in place. He could hear the howling of wolves in the distance. The lid from the music box popped open with exuberance. bursting in tinny tides of a familiar tune. Before Michael could place the sounds, the clown of every child's nightmare sprang from the box. The harlequin jester danced wickedly in Michael's face. The boy stifled his scream not wanting a child's toy to cause his undoing. He fought to free himself from the mud, rising quickly and ungracefully, he towered over the jack in the box. Standing upright once again, he had preserved a smidgen of his dignity.

He made a small attempt to brush the mud from his clothes before deciding to leave the clown and the eerie music behind. His only open path, away from the zany merrymaker, was towards the tombstone he had come to visit. A retreat was no longer possible. He lifted one foot and then the other out of the sludge holding his boots in place. His thumping heart encouraged him to run fast, but the thick mud slowed his progress. He could hear the clown as it continued its dance behind him. The melody seemed to move faster than his feet could carry him. Panic began to grip him, just as the sight of the headstone he had searched came into view. His purpose for being here seemed unimportant but it meant he had traveled far and the exit to the cemetery was near. Like a soccer ball in search of the net, he bounced toward the goal.

When he reached the marker, he could see the silhouette of what looked like a head dancing above it. His scream could no longer be stifled, as he realized that the floating ominous object was a bright and cheery red balloon. So piercing and petrifying were his screams even the wolves ceased to howl. At his feet, he felt the slithering movement of vines as they tangled tentacles of restraint around his ankles A ghostly quiet descended on the cemetery as Michael felt the earth sinking below his feet. He was helpless to stop himself from falling into the open grave that held a silky black and white checkered clowns costume. His tears were real, as he clawed at the dirt to escape the clown's crypt.

A bright flash of light blinded him when he glanced up from the pit. With his vision momentarily reduced he saw only patches of white moving figures overhead. As his focus cleared he could make out the shapes of large mummified characters above him. Glowing eyes greeted him behind hanging shards of cloth that sheathed the graveyard fossils. Unsure of where his safety lied he stopped digging his way out of the pit and stood motionless. Trying to decide his next move, he ducked low as a mummy tossed something down at him. He caught sight of the yellow daisy as it floated by him and another flash of light lit up the darkness. He heard the voices of consequence that were familiar and very scary.

"Michael Pompei, get your butt out of that grave right now! I couldn't believe it when Gabe told me what you were up to. Are you crazy, going off and not telling anyone where you were going?" the voice of his father bellowed.

"I thought we taught you better than this. How dumb are you to take a dare like this? If your friends told you to jump off the bridge would you do it?" his mummified mommy queried.



His parents had taught Michael a lesson that he would never forget and took pictures to remind him for the rest of his life.

Word Count 1241