WHISPERS FROM THE GRAVEYARD

A chill wind whistled through the ancient oaks that guarded the graveyard. The pale moonlight bathed the crumbling headstones in an eerie light. Cries echoed softly on the wet earth, sending tremors down my spine. I clutched closer to the weathered inscription on a nearby grave. Could it be? The copyright seemed to pulsate before my gaze, whisperin