On October 30, my family (on my mom's side) decided to visit the cemetery. We rode in different vans going to Holy Cross Memorial Park, a cemetery in Novaliches, Quezon City. My sister and I rode with my cousin, playing the DS and telling each other stories to pass the time.
We stepped down to a grassy place an hour later. Dusty tombstones on the ground and death dates were everywhere. It was creepy, and it would have sent a chill down my spine if it weren't for the sun shining brightly in the sky. There were also a lot of people and fast food stalls, which made it less creepier. My cousin and I walked around, trying to find the earliest birth date engraved on a tombstone. But we also made sure that we never stepped on anyone's grave- whose spirit could haunt us later that night.
Walking through the dead is scary, for our imagination makes it so. My imagination conjures thoughts of silvery-white spirits rising from tombs and shriveled-up faces with blood dripping down their eyes- EEEK! Our imagination could really make up some nightmares we later on will regret. I regret thinking of that ghost in my bathroom. Here is a poem about those kind of nightmares the imagination could make- and what could help in fighting these.
We stepped down to a grassy place an hour later. Dusty tombstones on the ground and death dates were everywhere. It was creepy, and it would have sent a chill down my spine if it weren't for the sun shining brightly in the sky. There were also a lot of people and fast food stalls, which made it less creepier. My cousin and I walked around, trying to find the earliest birth date engraved on a tombstone. But we also made sure that we never stepped on anyone's grave- whose spirit could haunt us later that night.
Walking through the dead is scary, for our imagination makes it so. My imagination conjures thoughts of silvery-white spirits rising from tombs and shriveled-up faces with blood dripping down their eyes- EEEK! Our imagination could really make up some nightmares we later on will regret. I regret thinking of that ghost in my bathroom. Here is a poem about those kind of nightmares the imagination could make- and what could help in fighting these.
Nightmares and Nightlights
by Mattie
Lost I was in a realm of nightmare
Being chased by a zombie/vampire
Why couldn't I tumble to the other side
Where unicorns and rainbows reign?
It seemed like running in circles and circles
In the inky dark nothingness
But as I searched and searched
I sighted a glow, a light of shining hope.
Could it be- a portal?
From this world to the reality of life?
But never was I to know
For a slimy hand had clutched my shoulder.
I woke with a start, back in the comfort of a blanket
Dimly do I remember that sight from my dream
But I did remember that trail of red blood it left
And its ghostly white eyes staring right into my soul.
I shook myself, relieving myself of fear
And looked around at my dark bedroom
Stared at the ticking of the clock
As it was, I discovered, three hours past midnight.
I wanted to go back to sleep!
But my eyes wouldn't shut, my eyes would flicker
Even as I counted my sheep
It was one creepy night-for I could not go back to sleep!
Suddenly, a knock came tapping on the door
And the shuffling of steps echoed throughout my room
I got up, twisted the door knob and-
There was no trace of who had knocked on my door.
I ran quickly to my parents' room
Knowing they could comfort me and let me sleep on their bed
I pinched, shook, patted-but failed,
Their snoring just grew louder.
I looked out in the window,
Into the darkness of the cold night
No lone dog howling nor cat meowing
The outside was as creepy as could be.
A stray cold air rushed towards me
And looked behind and saw-
A shadow softly flitting and prancing across the room
And I knew that it wasn't mine.
I fled as fast as my feet could go
And tucked myself into one of my soft blankets
Then something caught my eye-
Those ghostly white eyes I had once seen.
I screamed, my heart hammering on my chest
Hoping it would wake up the others
But no one rushed into my room a few seconds later
What was happening to the world around me?
I never believed in those rumors-it could be imagination
Where they say my house was built on a graveyard
And lone ghosts would haunt me all my life
But now I see-maybe it was true!
I grasped around for something that might help me
Maybe a toy hammer or sword to hit zombies on the head
But instead, I found a switch
Finally, the nightlight!
I switched it on and-lo and behold!
A warm light to defend me against dark creatures
No longer was I afraid or scared
But I never realized all my nightmares would end-
All with one nightlight!
I would do other things too, like opening all the doors and making sure that there is always someone near me. I also pray to my guardian angel to guard me from bad spirits.
 |
| The moon and the dark nothingness |
My imagination always scares me, but that doesn't mean imagination is a bad thing. Imagination really makes lives more colorful and lively. Imagination is like the sun to a flower, which makes it live. So although imagination can cook up some really terrifying things- especially this October-November, a bit of imagination is good for you.
Oodles of goodbyes,
Mattie
