Morning all and Happy Thursday. I hope your week has been chugging along nicely. Mine has been pretty good thus far. Busy, but pretty good. There were some hiccups in my scheduling, but I’ll add a short post about that in a bot. For now, it is time to get to the morning writing prompt. Are you ready? Good, because I have a good feeling about this.
I kind of like this one. It sort of plays into an idea I’ve had tickling the back of my brain for a while. I’ll have to copy this into that file and see if it becomes useful when i get around to working more on that idea. Regardless, I like it. It seems like a good way to start July.
Thursday, July 1st: Legend has it, he was killed on this very spot.
“Legend has it, he was killed on this very spot.” As the words fell from Liza’s lips a low wail was heard in the distance. The tourist clustered together in a slightly tighter group, many seeming unaware that they actually moved. Liza reminded herself to tell Colin he was doing well with the sound effects. Tonight’s Haunted Mystery tour was going well, better than any they had done previously.
In many of their past tours the sound had been the issues. Colin couldn’t resist getting overly dramatic. While she conceded that a sense of drama was nice, he tended to go so overboard that it tipped the tourists from tittering with nervous excitement and over into laughter at the farce.
Tonight no one was laughing.
They wound their way slowly through the old cemetery. Liza kept her steps measured and slow. She counted them as she walked, giving the last fright time to sink in before she began the next tale of woe.
‘I’ll also have to Colin about the dry ice machine,’ she thought. The fog was getting especially thick. She liked the atmosphere of it, but she didn’t want anyone getting separated from the group and lost among the tombstones. Barrowville Cemetery was old and vast. Many of the older parts weren’t kept up very well and while she didn’t believe ins spooks and specters, she believed heavily in twisted ankles and bruised shins. At the moment she was having trouble keeping her own shins from banging against the headstones. It didn’t help that in this section the rows were irregularly spaced.
Liza turned back to the group. She took a quick head count and found all present. The cluster of people had condensed, the fog herding them together instead of separating them. She breathed a sigh of relief as it was one less thing to worry about. She reached out a hand and placed it on top of the next headstone. She felt the gritty limestone surface beneath her fingertips, so different from the polished granite of the newer stones in the front of the cemetery.
“And now we come to Lucille Morgan,” Liza began. “Her sad tale echoes through the centuries, her unhappy end still causing her to walk these very fields. Or so some claim,” Liza added. She kept the volume of her voice low so that the others had to lean forward. Confident in their attention, Liza allowed her gaze to drop to the headstone. As she shifted, she saw the edge of a shoe lying at ground level. It looked modern.
She edged forward a step, wondering if it was trash or if one of the tourists actually fainted. Both were routine occurrences on these tours. They had taken to patrolling the cemetery routinely to make certain garbage was all collected and disposed of the day before the tour. Liza edged a little closer and saw the shoe was attached to a leg.
“It seems we have frightened someone to death,” Liza said. “or perhaps he has just fainted, Shall we see?” she told the crowd. There were titters from the scared, an edge of relief to the sound as they weren’t the ones on the ground. Liza moved over to help the fallen. The scent hit her before her eyes could register the sight. Blood, excrement and a raw meat smell. Then her eyes took in the tattered flesh. She blinked, recognizing the face.
“C…C…Colin?”
Ten til Midnight 