The Sepia exploits.

A grave error.

Our sceptical team had been called out to investigate the possible haunting of a small churchyard. The white smoky outline of a lady had been terrifying the locals and as her appearance was usually accompanied by unearthly sounds we decided to investigate.
    In these misty flatlands ‘ghosts’ often float aimlessly across open fields and the sudden bark of a fox or the scream of a dying rabbit can send a shiver down the spine of the hardest man. Our aim was to film the mist as it rolled in ever changing form across the dark gravestones. We also hoped to take some good inventive pictures with the help of an actress; ghost photographs are always in high demand.

The day was hot; the sky sported not one cloud until we rounded the corner of the Saxon built church. It seemed as if the churchyard had been constructed purposely to avoid any contact with the Sun’s rays. Thick coats were quickly donned and filming began.
    Mists constantly rolled across the nearby fields yet refused to either advance on us or take on some of the mystical shapes that could be used to disprove the existence of a spectral being. An absence of birdsong was noted and explained, what self-respecting bird would stay in this sunless grove. In fact we all noticed that as the day progressed the only ray of light at all came from our actress. Dressed in a beautiful flowing evening gown she floated through the graves casting a golden glow over the deepest of shadows. Bright yellow flatters few people yet for monotone film it produces the most perfect white, perfect for a ghost.
    Filming became a farce, cameras jammed, ran out of film and perfectly timed gusts of wind lifted the flimsy dress to reveal the thick cord pants our actress wore underneath. Yet another hot coffee break was called for and my team set off to the only stonewall that offered shelter. I remained for a moment to examine a recent grave. This was of the woman thought responsible for the haunting and although the headstone was new it was already tilted at a dangerous angle while the grave sank away to nothing on one side. This was the grave of the local gossip, known only for her vindictiveness. A thin laugh left my lips for if anyone would come back to terrorise the human race then she would.

The weight of my camera finally made me give way to instinct and I carefully set it down on a nearby stone. I stretched to ease my aching shoulder when a movement seen momentarily from the corner of my eye instantly grabbed my attention and I spun around to face the tilted grave.
    Nightmares often frequent my sleep, brought on by late night snacks and silly stories, yet this went beyond that terror. The ground below me was moving! Exactly in the middle of the old woman’s grave the bare ground shook. I had not noticed before how this was the only grave without grass, not one blade adorned this misshapen place. I managed to raise my head and looked towards my team leaning casually and unconcerned against the wall. They seemed misty and much further away than the hundred meters that they were. I could see laughter on the face of one, yet heard no sound and I tried to lift my arm to signal for help. A strange paralysis struck me, my mouth opened to scream yet not even a grunt escaped. Every horror film I had ever seen flooded my scrambled brain, I had seen this one a hundred times and knew the outcome. The ground continued to erupt inches from my feet flicking fresh earth into my shoes and I knew that at any moment the putrid zombie hand would reach out and pull me into the black abyss.
    My chest tightened and a pain flicked through my chest. I continued to hold my breath through the pain for fear of being noticed by this aberrant thing from the underworld. Again I tried to find the voice I knew I had, I had practiced this moment for so long. No sound left my lips and the erupted ground gave one more heave to free the thing below. The air left my lungs in one rush producing not the scream I had hoped for but a loud witch like cackle that reached the ears of my team.

Even as they were running toward me the beast at my foot sniffed the air, looked up at me with beady eyes, fluffed up his velvet black fur and vanished back down his hole.
    "Mole!" shouted my Russian friend, "You film him, yes?"
    "She film him, no!" answered the actress mimicking the young man. "Her camera is over there."
    "For why you not do with filming? Perfect for ghost film is grave out-putting with earth. Never get that again I think."
    All I could do was laugh as the paralysis wore off and my knees began to knock together. For the first time I had been caught, not only without my camera but also by a practical joke of nature.

Watch out for more Sepia exploits, true stories of heroism!!