((I try my hardest in typing))
Walking down the path of hell, no... not a path but a graveyard.Gray stones sticking up from the ground covered with some green moss. There was no sunlight penatrating this fog to the graves but just barely any sunlight through. Seeing the names, births, and deaths may give those who see it a curse, probably. Curse or no curse. It has been told that those who visit come back with pale faces, ruined clothes, and a couple of bruises. There were those who lost their way and wandered endlessly.
There was no grave-keeper. Those who have tried being a grave-keeper had met their fate in about 2 years after they mysteriously die. Maybe these graves are haunted. Maybe these graves curse them. Yet, there is one thing for certain, these graves tell a past like no other. The past in which those people who have died reside with memories or pain and sorrow or happy memories. But none shall know, and none shall head. Everything will reside in these Foresty Graves.
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FishStick's Stories
random stories FishStick's has created through many times of thinking and editing. Though not many and it may be long. FishStick's likes to read others, yet likes to write her own stories from time to time or just post something unbelievable.
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