Cemetery Shenanigans
Part One: Being Chased by A Phantom

I took a deep breath as I peered through the bars in the old iron fence. The sight that greeted me was one befitting a lovecraftian horror story. The grass was as tall as me, tombstones lay scattered about in all directions, there was no order to them, some were half sunken into the ground. Many were covered by moss. Somehow been worn smooth by the passing of countless years. Yet others lay broken and laying down. It seems even the dead to not gain any respect in this day and age.

Beyond the graves, I could see the outline of some trees, reeds, and swamp grass. All of this was bathed in silver moonlight. Flaming balls of gas that seemed to glow different colors, orange, yellow, silver, green, red, and white seemed to dance among the reeds. And hidden in the darkness the hooting of an owl could be heard. Its hoots seemed to echo across the rolling landscape.

Releasing my breath, I gathered up my courage and tossed my bag over the iron gate, a few moments later I climbed up the fence. Now, I'm not the most agile person I know, but I can move like greased lighting when I'm pushed to it. And so quickly hurled myself up and over the iron gate and soon I felt myself rolling down on the grass that was wet with dew.

I took a moment to collect myself, and then I made a rush toward my bag. In one quick movement I rushed forward, snatched my bag and started to run toward the cover of some nearby graves. A moment later I felt myself sliding behind the dark shadows of some trees and broken gravestones. My chest heaved up and down as I tried to hide myself behind the broken stones.

Through the inky darkness, I could see the darken silhouette of a passing patrol car belonging to the Benton Police Department. No doubt some rookie officer was out on patrol. Or somebody watching from the comfort and warmth of their living room had spied me through the blinds and had decided to phone the police and alert them to some possible mischief taking place down at the towns cemetery.

Either way I watched with bated breath as the patrol car made one or two passes before turning off on a side road. No doubt the rookie had decided that the man or woman who had made the call was just seeing things, after all it was only a week before Halloween and all manner of mischief was to take place.

Once I was sure the coast was clear, I took a deep breath and reached over and snatched my bag. Without giving it a second though I unzipped the bag and peered down into the confines. The bag held a white, wedding dress, a vintage white wedding dress I should say. The wedding dress looked like something a blushing bride would wear in the fifties. It was a white, cream colored dress that was trimmed in white lace. The gown was about ballerina length and had a more flirtatious and fun look about it while still providing the modesty required by the more traditional of churches. White stocking and white court shoes completed the look. And of course the finishing touches was the lacy white bridal veil. Of course, I had to have a white lacy bra and white matching panties to go along with the outfit. And to keep the illusion that I was a blushing bride at the alter, a white dancer belt. Of course it had to be white to match the rest of my outfit.

Without giving it a second though I unfolded the dress and laid out the outfit. And without giving it a second thought, I started to unzip my blue, light cotton hoodie. Once it was unzipped, I tossed it down upon the ground, I then removed my checked flannel shirt and tossed it on the ground too. Then came my undershirt, then I unlaced my sneakers, my socks, removed my belt and finally my jeans.

Mind you all of this was done in total darkness. Without the light of the moon to help and guide me.
At last came my boxers. Once I was naked as the day I came into this world, I tossed everything into my bag and zipped it up. I then turned my attention first toward the white dancer belt. Taking a deep breath, I slipped the form fitting garment on. Then came the white lacy panties, then I somehow managed to slip on the stockings and the then the dress. And then the shoes. Once that was done, I reached into my bag and pulled out a hairbrush, quickly without thinking I tried to tame the mass of curls my hair had become, with jerking motions, I pulled the teeth of the comb through my brunette tresses till at last I'd managed to smooth it out. I then placed the veil on my head and took a deep breath.

Their was only one thing to do now, and that was to apply a little make-up, just some foundation and blush and a little lipstick. Nothing too heavy you know, I was after all supposed to be a bride. But then I stopped and I started to think, what novice ghost hunter in their right mind would sneak into a supposed haunted Cemetery two days before Halloween. I must have been breaking at least a dozen laws. And to make matters work, if somebody caught me, I would dress like a bride. How was I going to explain that to Mr. Andy Griffin down at the local police station when one of the Barney Fife's on the force hauled me down for questioning?

How did I explain to them that I needed to crossdress to lure the ghost of a bride who chopped her sister into a thousand tiny bits and pieces along with the man that was supposed to have been her husband? Would they understand? Could they understand the finer points of ghost hunting? Could they understand that fifteen hundred dollars prize money was on the line? And the camera? My camera I needed proof of my encounter. Yes, one snapshot, instant online stardom, a fifteen hundred dollar payday.

Would they laugh? Would they cry? Or would they haul me down to King's Daughters Hospital for a full psychological assessment before booking me a room for the night down at Warren-Yazoo Mental Health? You know what, damn the risk! If I was going to become a popular online ghost hunter I had to take some risk, roll the dice, take a chance you know. So with that in mind, I gently applied a layer of foundation, followed by some blush. I then puckered up my lips and applied a coating of cherry red lipstick to them. I rolled them around to get some good coverage and then I knew I was ready.

I then closed the compact and tossed it into my bag. It was time to see if the legend of the bloody bride was real or just some silly urban legend the older kids made up to scare the little kids. Gathering my courage, I stood up and slowly I started to pace up and down sunken tombstones, after a few minutes I decided to place the veil over my face. I then reached down and collected a bundle of discharged plastic flowers. All the brides needed a bouquet of flowers. And the discharged plastic flowers, most of them appeared to be Daisy's, Sunflowers, Red Roses, Blue Roses, and one or two White Roses would have to be done in a pinch.

And so veil covering my face, bouquet of flowers in my hand, I started to pace, and as I did so I started to hum the 'Bridal March'. I soon found myself leaving the dew-covered ground and walking on the main roadway, the main roadway was paved square, flat cobblestones, that caused the heel of my shoes to click and clack with each step I took. It must have been a little past midnight. The wind was picking up, causing the bare branches of the trees to swoop and sway. The hooting of a lone owl and the barking of a stray dog seemed to drive the message that I was indeed alone home.

I walked the road, and as I walked I passed broken headstones, crumbling mausoleums succumbing to the ravages of times and mother nature. I passed a fountain that was filled with moss. The pale rays of moonlight seemed to shine off its darkened water. It must have been rain water, because the water was not moving, and the fountain seemed to be almost crumbling to dust before the steady march of time.
I paused. And then I wished I'd brought me something to drink, all this walking was making me thirsty. Then I caught sight of something, standing on a nearby hill was the form of a woman, she seemed to be wearing a vintage wedding dress. Much like the one I was wearing, but only this one seemed covered in dried blood. It reminded me of that one scene in Carrie. Carrie after being named prom queen has her white dress splattered with pigs blood. Only this time, I doubt that the blood was from a pig.

And in the pale, streaming moonlight I saw the gleam of an ax, the blade of the ax seemed to be dripping with blood and her eyes, her eyes seemed to burn like the very fires of the underworld. The woman peered at me, and seemed to tighten her hold on the handle of the ax. A few seconds later she started to climb down the hill and advance toward me.

My blood ran cold, I felt a sudden down pass over me, I felt my heart jump into my throat, I felt like I was peering toward something that I could not fully understand. Quickly I reached for my camera and then to horror I noticed that I must have left it back where I changed! I wanted to slap myself across the face for being so stupid! Then I noticed that the woman was closing in on me. I could see her smiling through the white lace of her veil. It was a feral smile, the one of a killer who had just laid eyes on her next victim. The kind of smile I pictured Count Dracula making before he sank his fangs into the neck of his prey.

Then without giving it a second thought, I turned upon my heel and started to rush down the slick, brick paved road that seemed to snake its way through the cemetery. Now, I'm lean like a bean pole, and being weaker, and shorter than most boys my age, I've been bullied since kindergarten. Naturally since I'm not much of a fighter, and running away from trouble has been my main way of evading bullies and school yard brawls, I've developed some powerful lungs and a powerful set of legs.

And right now, I was using those legs to make tracks. But here is the problem, you can't really run in high heels, and you sure as hell can't run in high heels on slick cobblestones. A few minutes into my mad dash for freedom I felt the heel of my left shoe slip between the cracks of the stone and a moment later it broke off. I stumbled and I prayed for a moment, I thought my ankle had snapped too.

But after a few seconds of wiggling around I'd manage to free my foot from the broken shoe. The delay though only a few seconds had allowed the phantom that was following me to close the distance. The opening lines of the bridal march seemed to grow louder and louder with each passing second.

I broke into a cold sweat, and took a deep breath and quickly I slipped out of the other shoe. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would jump out of my chest. Once I was free of the other shoe, I took off running down the brick paved driveway.

I don't know how long or how far I ran, I just know that time seemed too slow to crawl. The seconds felt like minutes, and the minutes felt like hours. My lungs now felt like they were on fire, and my ankles and legs burned, at this point my stocking had worn thin and you could see my bare feet. I thought, I could go on no more, the humming the bridal march behind me told me I was still being chased. I was just about to give up, turn around and face the music when I noticed out of the corner of my eye a faint, yellow glowing light.

I quickly started to rush toward the light. The light was just beyond a small dip in the road.. could not have been more twenty or thirty yards away. Taking a deep breath I reached down and mustered what remaining strength I had remaining in this frail frame, the lumbering shack of a body that some joker of a god had deemed fit to give me, reaching down and mustering that last bit of strength I still had within me, I started to speed up. And before I knew it, I had reached an old, weather worn door. Taking a deep breath I threw the door open and plunged inside. Quickly I closed the door behind me. And then I was greeted with a sight that took my breath away.