Myrtle Hill Cementery
by Jimmy Wenger
”I opened the doors slowly. Immediately a wind of rancid, decaying air hit all of us in the face. Standing there, we both turned to each other with looks of utter disgust as the air within was like that of an open tomb. As we looked inward, we spotted shadows flirting around on the walls, and heard what we thought to be whispers and low talking, and, after a moment, we both heard two distinct voices, that of a man, and that of a young girl. Needless to say, we both hurried out of there in considerable haste…
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