“Last one back buys the beer!” Jacob said.

Eric, who had never even stepped foot in a graveyard, felt uneasy.

“What if we get caught?” Eric asked.

“Who’s going to catch us? The dead? I’ve done this a hundred times before, it’s not a big deal.”

“Okay, fine,” Eric took a deep breath, and set his foot on the edge of the property. He suddenly heard a sound, something deep and frantic, but his friend shouted “Go!” before he even had a chance to think.

They took off! Half a mile across, half a mile back. The strange sound was louder now as they reached the mid-point. He could hear it even over the thud of his shoes on the grass.

They touched the wall at the edge, and turned to race back but stopped dead in their tracks.

Dozens, no…hundreds of graves were moving. Dirt shifting. Bones clawing their way out into the night. Skulls popped above their wood and dirt prisons, and all of them turned toward Eric, reaching out in his direction.

“Run!” Jacob screamed.

The boys took off through the horror of bones and rotted bodies that all clamored to reach them.

But they started gripping on to Eric, catching, holding so tight.

He could see that Jacob had reached the edge.

“Jacob! Help!” Eric cried.

“Sorry, man! I guess you’re not fast enough!” Jacob grinned.

Eric cried out. The dead were upon him, and he could no longer fight the damp bones that dragged him screaming back underground with them.