Sample # 1: Opening with Action
 

Matthew walked toward the edge of the graveyard. As his eyes scanned forward and along the periphery, the apprehension he had for this place as a child stirred within him in vague undertones. Animals crept from their hidden and buried dens, moving just beyond his field of vision within the night blackness. He dismissed them as a part of the natural realm, and therefore safe – and yet he was disturbed that his eyes could not fix upon them.

In slow degrees, Matthew approached the entrance. Blood pulsed in his temples and his frame became tense. He clenched his teeth, unaware; he kept his attention entirely forward now, until he passed through the threshold and stood motionless above the first tomb.

As Matthew became lost to time and space, something collected around him, like a mist, yet invisible. At first, he did not see it; he did not smell the unnatural scent that attended it. But after a moment, it became distinct and was familiar.

The man attempted to take a step back, but found his feet were locked in their places. It was as he had always remembered. Youth was many years removed, but the memory and this moment were the same.

Something cold crawled upon his back, like fingers of a claw, spread out at first, almost massaging him in a sickly caress. But then it closed around him from behind and pressed him to the ground.

Matthew was face down. The thing pressed further until he could not breathe and his torso felt buried. And still it pressed down. It pushed and pushed until Matthew believed he would die this time. Inward, he voiced the words of a prayer that asked God to protect his soul upon its release from the body. He could not fathom, that this invisible atrocity scowling malice and hate at the back of his neck, would relent even after the success of death.

© Copyright  Tom Occhipinti  2006

Sample # 2: Opening with Description
 

The inner pine wall was blemished with knots and age, giving distinction to the inside of the cabin; the vaulted ceiling stood taller than the outside of the cabin suggested, borne from perfectly straight trees. Though they had been buttressing the building for well over a century, the bark on them looked as fresh as it must have looked on the day the trees were cut.

© Copyright  Tom Occhipinti  2006

Sample # 3: Opening with Dialogue

“What happened last night?”                                 

Matthew knew the question was simple. But there was nothing he could say that would make any sense. So he said nothing. After a long pause, the woman returned with the same question.

“What happened last night?” This time her tone was less conversational.

“What do you mean?”

“There was a lot of noise coming from your hill. People visiting from back home?”

“There was no one there but me” The look on Matthew’s face and his limited response was not enough; he knew that. She would not go away with his narrow reply. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he finally returned.  This was, at least, something more genuine.

The woman became reflective. She was quiet enough that Matthew realized she probably had more to offer about the night before than even he had. And he was in the middle of it. She turned slightly away, and then back to him with the edge of something that he knew was substantial. He waited, and eventually, she continued.

“It’s been going on for a long while.”

“What?” he asked, taken aback somewhat.

“I don’t know what’s going on up there, but it’s been happening all season – long before you came back. But no one wants to investigate. Who would, with noises like that – and after what happened up there last year.”

Ahh, Matthew thought. Now we’re getting to something.

© Copyright  Tom Occhipinti  2006

Sample # 4: Opening with Dialogue
 

“Don’t you see it?”

“No. I’m telling you – you’re crazy.”

“I’m not crazy. It’s right there.” Matty looked into center of dead space, as far as his brother perceived. But he saw what he saw and his eyes were lit by it.

“I’m going back to the house. You comin?”

“Wait. Not yet.” The fear in his voice was clear to even him. Matty balled up his small hands into fists as though he would be able to channel the fear into them. It did not work.

“I’m tellin mom you’re messing around up here. She told you to leave this place alone.”

“I know!” He did not know what else to say. He was not interested in talking right now. And he was worried that if he looked away this time, that the figure in the graveyard would disappear again. So he kept looking into the dark shadows and through the thin brush to the young ashen girl just beyond.

Matty’s brother stopped protesting, perhaps out of curiosity; but he did look in the direction that his brother was looking, because he was not that curious.

“Dan – go get dad.” Matty did not want to be alone, but he wanted the adult world to make some kind of sense of this for him. At the very least, he wanted affirmation that he was not being a silly, frightened little boy.

Dan did not move and Matty did not press him further.

The ashen girl moved slowly back and forth, almost as if she were rocking her body in a standing position; but it was an agitated motion, and one that conveyed unconsciously to Matty’s own posture.

“What are you doing? Stop fidgeting.

Dan was beginning to get on Matty’s nerves. “Look – go back to the house. I don’t want you with me anyway. I don’t need you to watch me!”

 His brother ignored him. “And you better stop talking crap at night. I don’t want you mentioning this place tonight.” Dan looked again in the direction of the graveyard. “This place is sick. I hate this place.”

“Okay,” Matty said, giving in. Besides, he had blinked or something, and the girl was gone again. Matty knew he was afraid. He knew that he was also drawn to the cemetery, to the headstones, and perhaps even to the girl. He would do as Dan asked. He would not mention this place tonight. Rather, he would wait for Dan to fall asleep – he would wait for everyone in the cabin to fall asleep – and he would take the flashlight and come back to this place. “Okay,” he repeated. Let’s go.”

© Copyright  Tom Occhipinti  2006