Many a place has its own haunted story. Castles with creaking stairs or pirate ships that appear in the dead of night. But how much of it is real?? How much of the truth is known, how much of the truth has been left without getting tangled up in some rumor that was created at the whims of some folk, to draw attention or to disperse a crowd or two. Well here’s a story I would like to tell you. Well it’s not my story. An old uncle I used to know told me about it (let’s just refer to him as ‘my uncle’). He used to own a graveyard. He was a widower and loved children. So there I was every weekend, at his house helping out or listening to one of his terrifying stories. But there was one in particular that he used to narrate with a lot of fervor. It seemed pretty real, the way he said it. But then again who knows the facts and the whatnots that had actually taken place. But I would still like to share it with you all. And don’t expect to be surprised, coz unlike most horror stories, this isn’t scary at all. Well here goes…..
(The story was narrated as if my uncle were present at the scene itself).
The road beside a cemetery, always causing doubts of fear to assail any young one’s mind (heightened even more in the dead of night). Well, there was no other road to take but that. So I mustered up my courage and started walking down that dark lonely road. So quiet it was that I could not hear my own footsteps. They were being drowned by the sound of my beating heart from within my ears. But something caught my eye. The gate was open. And suddenly I could hear. The creaking of the non-swinging gate and the wailing coming from beyond. As much as I wanted to run as fast as my legs would carry me in the opposite direction, I could not ignore so plaintive a sound. And for no logical, plausible, reason I was more curious than scared (please note I was still very scared).
Hands shaking I went in seeking the source of the melancholy sound. I made my way, the mournful laments guiding my steps. There on one of the graves was a girl crying. I breathed a sigh of relief thinking it was someone dear to the person lying beneath that grave. She looked so sad that I wanted to comfort her. But as I moved closer, she turned around. She saw me, her eyes widened and she stumbled backwards as if scared. I knew this girl. She was the one I loved for many years. We had grown close together but I had never got the courage to ask her to be my life partner. I wanted to ask her what had happened, why she was so upset. But before I could do so, something was calling- Not my name, not me, but my very essence. I turned, my eyes taking in everything on that grave. One look at the name etched on the gravestone was all it took and my breathing stopped. In bold letters it was written, the name that was given to me on the day I was christened.
Unbelieving I moved in for a closer look. There was no mistaking it. My name on the headstone of that grave. I knelt beside it. The girl must have overcome her fear, for she was suddenly by my side. I look at her confused. She placed her palm of her hand on my cheek and looked at me with those sad eyes. It felt so cold like we had no warmth in us. It then hit me, the accident, the blood, my parents crying, and the love of my life crying for me. I was dead and I did not know it. I understood now why she was crying.
I could not stand to see her sad. I moved to wipe her tears, but there were no tears. I did not know how to comfort her. We just stood there staring at each other through mournful eyes. She suddenly stood up and took a few steps back.
What happened next, I would never have imagined. From her clothes she drew a knife and before I could stop her she plunged it into her heart. I cried out to her as she fell. But what could I do. I was nothing but like air to the living. As she laid there on the ground, I held her head trying to stem the flow of blood, but then I realized- I could touch her, feel her. How was that possible?? I looked down, there was naught a drop of blood.
She was as confused as I was. I then understood. She was as dead as I was. She loved me so much that she had decided to end her life in an attempt to be with me. And just as I did not know she too had not comprehended the fact that we were both dead.
Life kept us apart but death drew us in together. And so we decided to live there forever, haunting the cemetery. A haunting of love.
Well there it is. The story that was narrated to me by my uncle. When he told me that this was a true story, I laughed at him. I asked him how he could even believe in this pretty farfetched tale. He looked at me with piercing eyes and said “How would you like to meet up with these tragic lovers??”
It took me a while to realize he wasn’t joking. So I agreed. That night we agreed to meet in the graveyard at the stroke of midnight.
So midnight. But I could not wait. As skeptical as I was, I was too excited. So I left an hour early. Into the cemetery I went. My uncle had not arrived yet (obviously, he was very punctual at least that’s what I had heard.). It was an unusually, eerie, windy kind of night. I decided to kill time by roaming around. I walked and walked, but soon got tired and what was worse, I was lost. I could not find my way back. I was getting sleepy even though my excitement had not faded away. So I climbed up a tree. And before you knew it, I had dozed off on one of its branches.
I woke up to a tune playing in my ears. It was resounding yet silent. I really cannot explain it. But it gave me the Goosebumps. I opened my eyes and the music stopped. I climbed down the tree, but slipped and fell. I got up and straight ahead was a gravestone. You must be wondering why I am mentioning this. On that gravestone was the name of the uncle who told me the story. The uncle I was supposed to meet. A look to the right and I almost fainted there. The name of my uncle’s late wife on the gravestone I saw.
The music started playing again. This time closer. I had to get out of here before I went crazy. I don’t know how, but I found my way out that night. I never saw my uncle again. I asked my mom about him and she had no clue as to whom I was talking about…..!!!
As scary as that was on that night, a year or so later when I thought back, I realized that I had gotten out by running in the direction opposite to the music. Had it not kept resounding in my ears I probably never would have found my way out till morning had broken out. And the kindness of my uncle I did not imagine. So maybe there were good ghosts. I made a decision then. To visit my uncle’s grave at least once a year and I have been doing that every year since. Maybe there are haunting based on love after all. Can one even call what took place a haunting in the first place?? Well. That’s for each one of us to decide.
-LeoOrion