A ghost story - Opowiadanie o duchach

It was the first time we were about to visit the cemetery at night. We left my house at 2 a. m. and went along a narrow path. There was almost no moonlight. Even though it was much darker than we’d expected, nobody made any complaint –  nobody wanted to be regarded as a coward.

I went first. I was the oldest one but that was not the reason. Among others there was Betty, our neighbour’s daughter, in whom I’d fallen in love with. I had to show that I was not afraid of anything and although in fact I was shaking with fear, I stayed calm on the outside.

The closer the cemetery was, the more anxious we were. Finally, we reached the gates. Only after I had turned back did I realize that there were only four persons out of six. Nobody knew what had happened to the missing two. It was too late to come back, though. As we reached our destination, we were determined to watch John Millners’ grave. It was widely considered to be haunted. Some people claimed that they had seen his ghost, floating over other graves.

We were just like other kids – this was only one of the things that we did out of curiosity. We pretended to be fearless but the chill ran down our spines every time we stepped on a twig. I knew that Betty was afraid too. If she had been calm, she wouldn’t have squeezed my hand.

We squatted there and waited, hidden behind one of the graves. Time was passing but nothing happened. We were thinking of leaving the cemetery, when suddenly we heard somebody yelling just next to us:

- I want your blood!

I thought I was going to die of fear. I wanted to stand up and run but I couldn’t do anything. I was just about to collapse when I heard somebody’s laughter. I was conscious enough to recognize my brother and his friend, both of whom we’d lost on our way to the cemetery. They were wearing a sheet and, pretending to be ghosts, almost frightened us to death. Almost? I hoped so, since Betty was still lying on the ground, not moving...