bitterdiva

Oops I crapped my pants

Alan sat down at a small table that looked out on the main road. One of the legs was shorter than the other three, missing a scratch resistant pad so when large parties of drunken frat boys dragged tables together, they wouldn’t scuff up the new linoleum. It wobbled horribly. He had to position himself so that when reaching for his scalding cup of coffee his arm wouldn’t upset the table and send the liquid gushing out of the opening created by the pull-tab all over his hand. He felt his heart still beating from running a mile back to civilization. He desperately hoped his companions found suitable shelter since they didn’t make it back to the designated location.

The clock behind the counter informed him that it was quarter to four in the morning. The rain was still pouring outside and he still didn’t know how he got from the cemetery back to the coffee shop without so much a scratch on him. He stared out the window, towards the ground, watching the rivers of water glisten in the orange light, induced by the presence of sodium, as they flowed down the hill towards the Hudson. The color scheme fit appropriately in with the occasion, orange light with black pavement, it was Halloween after all.

October, to Alan’s recollection, has always been the gloomiest of months. It’s the first full month of autumn, the time of year when nature begins to fall asleep. The leaves on the trees are ripped off their branches from the droplets of water turned into missiles increasing in force as they plummet towards the ground. It also becomes colder to the point that the first snowfall occurs during the later part of the month and there have been occasions when snow has fallen within the first week. The main source of gloom and doom is the stigma of Halloween, when the dead are allowed to roam the Earth for one night.

Alan and his friends decided to roam the cemeteries in search of the walking dead. They had traveled to a cemetery touted as one of America’s most haunted places located in the east side of the city. It was once intended to be a park but its current status was an eyesore for the local residents who were unfortunate enough to move in next to it. The entrances were overgrown with weeds, chained up, and visibly warned all that stood before the gates that any trespassers would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

Alan was the guinea pig, first to climb through the hole in the fence that was hidden by a dead shrub. The faint beeping from his jacket pocket indicated the lack of cell phone service when he was fully inside. Matt, Alan’s best-friend and leader of the pilgrimage, tossed over the several packs of supplies they brought with them and proceeded through the hole followed by Chuck and Gary.

The ground was slippery from the puddles quickly gathering on the blanket of leaves. Walking became problematic with no light to guide their way but they had to continue for a hundred yards down a slope before they could use their flashlights and not be seen from residents. The first sight on this eerie tour was the mausoleum that was now a pile of rubble. It was destroyed ten years ago because the centerpiece of the ceiling was an eye that watched people. Teenagers found it a suitable place to get drunk and stoned at being void of watching humans.

05:07 PM

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