Prowl of the Dead by Rachel Kingery

I awake in the dim light of the night. My mouth waters for rich, crimson blood on this fine Hallows eve. I arise from my resting place to finally feed. After all, this is the only night that I am allowed to prowl the land of the living.

I use my cold, dead fingers to chip away at the dirt on top of my cramped coffin. It is cool and gritty. The first feeling I have felt in a year. I finally see light seep through a tiny, but growing hole. I finally get to the top of the damp earth. I stretch out my limp, dead limbs and watch my brothers and sisters arise from their resting places. Our putrid smell filled the cadaverous cemetery. We start creeping in the shadows of the dark, deserted streets of the somber town they call Sleepy Hallow.

Our thirst flourishes, making us limp at a faster rate then our customary pace. To my right, I hear a series of shrieks coming from a somber house on Elm street. It is time for our kind to feast once again.

Happy Halloween Honors English 8