The One Where I’m Writing A Book

[© Alexander Charles Lomonte and Lomonte’s Lager, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given by Alexander Charles Lomonte and Lomonte’s Lager with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.]

This is my book/movie idea, I have had the idea since 8th grade. I hope to write most of it on here because this will motivate me to finish it.

DEAD OF NIGHT
By Alex Lomonte

The Graveyard
Germany, 1214

Van Phelka had been the grave keeper for most of his life, in fact, since he became of age at twelve, he had controlled the nights in the ghastly park. Now at 64 he was looking for an apprentice. Tonight however, he wanted a break from the brats he had been teaching. He had in his hands, a lantern and a tall walking stick. He used the walking stick for his gimp, which he got when he had to chase down some vandals back in his forties. The lantern, which had been handed down from grave keeper to grave keeper since the foundation of the town, shone very brightly in the foggy night.

Van approached the graveyard. He looked left, then right before he entered the creaking gate. Inside the stone walls of the graveyard there was a calm, but eerie feel to the night, which was attractive to Van, it always had been. Van limped through the head stones, which he knew better than the back of his hand, he didn’t need to scan the ground for obstacles, only the darkness around in case of scoundrels. Tonight Van felt a lot of gravel with each step, and when he looked down at the graves, they seemed in place, as always, but the sense of fear pricked up on the back of Van’s neck. He whirled around only to see nothing. He thought he heard a growl, he spun back around. Still seeing nothing. He continued on to the main head stone, that of Dmitri Helsgound, the brave man that led the people of this town to freedom. Van Phelka looked at the miraculous statue, Dmitri standing tall with his sword pointed forward as though leading a charge to victory.

Van pictured himself as this man for a brief moment then felt a gust of wind behind him, when he spun around he saw, only for a brief moment, hundreds of ghosts staring at him. He breathed and they were gone. He felt the ground rumble and heard graves crack and crumble to the ground. He backed away from the main stone and stood there in shock, his walking stick clattered to the ground as he stood petrified at the statue that split and fell apart. There was a brief second of silence and then as though Satan himself were standing in the spot of the once magnificent statue, there was a deep evil laugh that trembled through the very soul of Van Phelka. All of a sudden a figure leaped from the grave, high in the sky, and in its flight, Van dropped the ancient lantern and extinguished the only light in the graveyard. The figure landed on Van ripping of skin with his teeth, then looked up to the sky and screeched. Soon the remainder of the graves opened up and as though hell itself opened up zombie upon zombie poured out of the ground all fighting for a taste of Van Phelka.

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