by James Tomas (Author)
20 years had come and passed since evil had been lain to rest into the ground. Normally, the sweeping wind would bear the scent of lilac, willow, and roses through the night. The sun would be forthcoming, radiantly giving off its strong, warm, life-giving force. But on this pre-dawn day there was a sweeping silence across the grounds of the cemetery, and light would not come into the morning, but an oppressive silence, carrying terror and death in its bosom. Nothing could be heard under the dark and starless sky over the cemetery. Not the rustle of the leaves, as no wind blew, not even the warble of pre-morning birds, as the trees bore none on its limbs. First, it was rain that broke the silence of the darkness, starting out as a faint patter seemingly without consequence, then slicing down in hard even sheets. Blackness relented only to become mist, then, out of nowhere, it came. A furious terror shook the earth as it cracked open, yielding its host of the dead. And one by one, as the caskets broke open, the stench of death emanated from the bowels of the earth.