We agreed to meet for a haunted stroll offered by a famous old cemetery near our high school. Six cheerleaders, now in our seventies, still looking for excitement. We paired off and held hands as a precaution on the foot path. An actor who reminded us of Vincent Price narrated the event as we held up our candles to illuminate his face.
After a few history talks about people unfamiliar to us, we slowed our pace to drift to the back of the tour group. I wanted to walk through the Confederate soldier section, and my friends agreed to tag along. The crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot was the only sound at first.
We froze when we heard what seemed to be a faded bugle sound. It sounded like Taps to me, but I didn’t say anything to disturb the reverie. One of my friends thought she saw a soldier hanging from a tree, but we teased her that it must be a dummy for Halloween.
I tripped over a shovel which pivoted upright and struck another cheerleader. The domino effect caused her to fall backward and knock two more down. One fell beside a crypt that was opened slightly as if someone tried to get out.
Needless to say, we forgot that our doctors had told us not to run anymore. Lucky for us, we found our tour group as they headed out the front gate.
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