The Sunday Whirl

Through the ghoulish night, the wind spins a wicked spell. Unable to sleep, Sara feels a spirit as it begins to stir. She rises, almost unwillingly, her body moves, she seems wrapped in a blanket. “What tricks of the mind are doing this? I’ve never believed in ghosts, yet here I am, transported to the graveyard.” She seemed unable to speak or cry for help, as her bare feet were now set upon the freezing ground. The steps of a mausoleum were covered in dead weeds and spider webs. Sara was horribly afraid of spiders and shivered as she saw some moving. Unable to control her movements, she was transferred into the crypt.

Sara knew that buried within this hollowed tomb was the body of a distant relative who used to live in Sara’s house. It was rumored in family stories that Agatha had been a witch. It was never proven, and she was drowned by the township elders. Sara suddenly realized this might have been the date of Agatha’s drowning.

When she entered the crypt, a light shown her the casket in the room. Sara walked up and put a hand on Agatha’s coffer. Curiously, Sara felt a sadness, and thought she heard a sigh. She weirdly felt sorrow for Agatha, not really believing the old stories handed down in family gatherings.

The light went out, darkness surrounded her and Sara was able to move on her own. She turned and fled the burial chamber and when outside saw the sun was about to rise. In an instant she was relieved and felt the blanket around her, but her feet still felt the cold. She ran over the grassy mounds and into her house. Sara was certainly confused as to how she found herself outside in the old graveyard which bordered her yard, but decided she would try to find out what really happened to Agatha, and if she was dreaming or were ghosts or spirits real?

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