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The Stone Man

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As a ten-year-old kid many things in life didn't make sense. Therefore, memories and such from that age and so forth were foggy and not very attention grabbing. Almost as if all of my memories of good times and memorable moments were gone. Of course, it could be due to the fact I had a very boring childhood. I do however remember one thing that scares me now, more than ever. Our family lived in a big ranch that we inherited from my grandpa. We didn't live there long though, as my parent's did favor being disconnected with the suburbs, but I myself loved it. I remember my times there, pretty much mild memories of me sitting around throwing rocks, as I explained my memories of the ranch weren't too exciting. However, in the back of the house there was a field. If you were to venture far enough you'd reach a forest, and if you decided to go in far enough there would be a small clearing.

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I happened to stumble upon said clearing while wandering around aimlessly, trying to think of what to do to entertain my lonely self next. I saw a chipmunk, and chased it into the forest, I lost it but stumbled into the clearing. In the middle stood a statue. It was devoid of a face and stood stout and motionless, as you'd expect a statue to. I climbed to the top of the statue out of childish instinct. I couldn't see far past the expanse of trees and shrubs, but I felt like I was flying. The next thing I remember was a gust of wind picking up several dead leaves and dirt, swooping the mixture into my eyes and me falling backwards onto the dirt. The next thing I know, I awake on my bed about an hour later. My mom calls me for dinner, and I asked her if it was her or dad that found me and took me to my bed. My mom had no idea what I was talking about, same with my dad.

The rest of the night I was sitting up staring out my window at the forest. It wasn't until later that night that I dozed off to sleep. I had a vivid dream of me on the statue again. Except this time, I could see high above the trees. Wind rustled my hair, birds chirped by, and the sun beamed on me. That's as much as I could salvage from the fragmented memory, but it's comprehensive enough. When I awoke I rushed down stairs and told my mom about the statue. My mom gave a friendly grin and said,

"That's great. Looks like you've found yourself a place to play." I did play there for the next few weeks. I played hop scotch, jacks, marbles, and whatever kind of games I enjoyed as a kid. When dark came I would retreat back home to eat dinner then go to bed. It was my routine, until strange things started happening. I noticed only the trees around the clearing were dying. Animals avoided the area, and there seemed to be no other sounds but the ones I made. Wind didn't even blow through anymore.

One night, as I was asleep, a draft blew through my door, blowing it open. I jolted awake and sat in dead silence for a minute. I heard footsteps down the stairs. I heard the door open and close. It was too late for any of my parents to be going anywhere, so I was stupid enough to go and check. The front door was left slightly open. I slipped outside and followed footprints leading to the clearing. Moonlight shone through the gap in the trees. I stood there and stared at the statue. Wind began to pick up. Leaves swirled and danced around me. It got colder, and my body felt heavier, as if gravity was increasing. The next thing I remember was the most frightening part, the statue extended a hand and through the gate I could hear a soft whisper say, "Join me." I panicked and started to cry. The ground around the statue started rapidly growing fungi. Dust flew into my eyes and I fell back. I crawled on all fours out of the clearing. I managed to get up and run as fast as I could back home. I woke my mom and dad up, and told them a man tried to attack me. They did not hesitate to call the cops.

That's not the part that frightened me the most however. The cops hurried to the clearing and found that the platform that that statue was standing on marked my grandpa's grave. My parent's told me that they didn't tell me where they had grandpa buried because they didn't want me knowing he was buried so close. It was over and the police left. We moved out soon after. I now live by myself in a small apartment. I don't know why I remember it but it still haunts me. The whole scenario is frightening, but that's not the part that keeps me up at night. The thing that creeps me out is the fact when we arrived to the clearing, the trees were dead and there were no footprints beside mine. I also noticed that platform that marked my grandpa's grave was missing something, the statue.



Written by MacaroniArtZombeh
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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