The fog lay thick across the countryside creating an eerie scene that was straight out of an American horror movie. To make matters worse, Krystal was standing in a graveyard. She shivered in her fake fur lined Parker coat and checked the time on the church clock. The large hands were still on quarter to ten.
‘Has it stopped?’ she asked out loud then put her hands into her pockets to find her phone.
‘That clock ain’t been a workin’ for years, lassie,’ a voice answered out of nowhere.
Krystal jumped and spun around, but she could see no one.
The fog was wrapped around the large headstones masking them like death shrouds. The smaller headstones were buried in the long frost covered grass. An old bare tree rattled in the wind and when the sky did appear from behind the fog, it was still dark as if the sun was…
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