I live in the country of North Carolina, out in Person County to be more exact. One day while riding here and there on my four-wheeler, I actually caught a glimpse of an old graveyard. It was somewhat covered in all sorts of plant-life but once I got a good look at it I realized that some graves weren't marked or were sunken in.
The following weekend, me and my friend Bobby rode back down to the graveyard. Of course we did this around 1 or 2 in the morning, genius us right? Crickets, frogs and whatever else that could make a noise was doing so quite loudly. Me and Bobby walked down the path and left the four-wheeler behind. About 15 steps in everything went silent. You could hear a pin drop. We turned back to the four-wheeler and hopped on then Bobby told me to floor it and so I did. As we sped off he stated that he saw a black figure throw something at us and when we stopped about 100-200 feet up ahead of the path, we checked ourselves. We each had the same length, depth, and position cuts on our right ankles.
Till this day I am iffy about going back to that place even if someone else is there with me. Sometimes things just want to be left alone. Maybe it was their way of saying we are not wanted.
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