By David Knoles

Lightning flashed and thunder roared like an angry giant bellowing with rage.

The graveyard was lit for a second in stark white. The sea of tombstones extended for nearly a mile. Those near the arched, wrought iron gateway -- the newer ones -- stood grim and silent in neat rows. But rear of the cemetery had grown wild, and the old graves -- the stone crosses, monuments, carved angels and gargoyles on marble pedestals that stood amidst unkempt clumps of overgrown weeds -- seemed to take on an eerie life of their own in the sudden light of Jupiterian anger.

A rat canvassing for a late supper stopped and turned tail at what the brief lightning revealed. Even a large black scorpion, which had been busily stinging a smaller insect, stopped what it was doing and skittered away. Neither creature knew that it was Halloween night. But they fled anyway as if instinct itself told them that this was not the night to be in such a place

But a large brown bat, which happened to be flying overhead, was not so lucky. Disoriented by the bright light and booming sound, it lost its course momentarily and lighted on an ornate stone cross near the crumbling back cemetery wall to catch its bearings. It fluttered its scalloped wings and shuddered as the lightning flashed again. The monument beneath it began to move as the thunder rumbled behind it, gently rocking back and forth.

The bat tried to flap its way into the air. A sudden gust of wind caught it and slammed it backward into the partially deteriorated oak door of an ancient, nearby mausoleum. It fell hard on the stone steps leading to the door. Although dazed, it screeched in terror and protest as it tried to right itself.

The mausoleum door creaked open and something long and thin slithered outside. It seemed to feel its way for an instant. Then, as if sensing prey was near at hand, it grabbed the floundering bat with the quickness of a snake's flitting tongue and dragged the startled creature inside.

The door creaked slowly shut behind it.

The stone cross continued rocking lazily back and forth in the ground as if it were unaware, or unconcerned, about what transpired. The wind whistled around it. The sound was like eerie, moaning laughter.

Lightning flashed again, freezing the massive cross in mid-air as it finally toppled over. It fell to the ground with a crash that was lost in a peel of thunder.

Something like greenish smoke drifted up from the gaping hole left by the toppled monument. It formed a shape like a billowing canopy with outstretched arms. For a second, a pair of oval eyes and a wide, grinning mouth seemed to form in the smoke. A gust of wind came up and the smoke was quickly dispelled. As if in protest, a belch of foul-smelling gas gushed from the hole and was quickly, and angrily, spread across the graveyard by the wind.

A thin brown dog that had been sleeping beside a freshly dug grave whimpered as it caught the scent. Its master, a grizzled, mostly bald gravedigger with a hawkish profile stirred as the dog began to bark.

The gravedigger had fallen asleep himself, his work not yet complete, atop a pile of fresh, soft earth. He was still clutching the spade he had used. The dog began to howl, as the scent grew stronger. One of the gravedigger's eyes fluttered open. He scowled at the cur.

"Id-jit mutt," he hissed. He reached over to slap it, unaware that he was still holding the shovel.

It came down on his head, striking with a dull metallic thud.

The old man cried out in pain. Startled, the dog yelped and scurried away.

Bright tongues of lightning licked the ground, and thunder boomed overhead.

The gravedigger stood, slapping a hand over a gash the shovel had opened on his forehead to stop the sudden gush of blood. He stumbled forward, mumbling curses to himself. Disoriented, he slipped down the mound of earth and fell headlong into the nearly finished grave.

Somewhere, distantly, someone or something began to laugh softly.

Bits of dirt began to fall into the grave as the thunder roared again. All at once, the pile of loose, damp earth began to cascade down into the open pit as if a gigantic, unseen hand was pushing it.

The laughter continued. Softly. Softly.

Cowering behind a nearby tombstone, the thin brown dog whimpered. Rain began to fall, dispelling the stench that had blanketed the graveyard. Wet, frightened and miserable, the dog trotted wearily toward the old mausoleum near the back fence, hoping it might find shelter from the pelting raindrops.

It stopped short of the squat, somber structure, curiously sniffing at the weathered door.

The door creaked slowly open as if in response. The dog retreated a step and then began to growl.

The door abruptly stopped.

The dog waited a moment and then inched a step closer.

All at once, a bolt of lightning hit the base of a carved, granite angel across from the mausoleum. It cracked the base, and the figure tumbled over.

The dog yelped in terror and surprise, but its cry was cut short as the cold, stone figure shattered on top of it.

The laughter rose to maniacal proportions, filling every inch of the cemetery.

But as suddenly as it had risen, the laughter abruptly stopped, replaced by howling wind.

At the base of the fallen angel, a pebble suddenly stirred and moved an inch to the left. A crack formed in the damp ground, which seemed to pulsate with a life of its own. Something pushed its way free of the dirt, clutching and clawing at the air. It might have been a human hand. Once.

Blue and yellow flesh clung in patches to the thin blackened bones of the hand. A sickly yellow puss oozed from the torn and ragged bits, which seemed to peel back in layers as the hand closed and opened uselessly.

The ground beside it began to pulsate as well, and a second hand wiggled free of the dirt. Both of them continued rising at the ends of rotting bony arms that looked like strange, putrid stalks.

Finally, a head broke through the ground between them. Skin was missing from the crown of the skull as was the nose and lips of the thing coming out of the damp earth. Several teeth fell from the gum-less jaw. But the canines remained. They were long and pointed like fangs.

The thing looked around its surroundings through dead blue eyes, aided by the frequent lightning strikes. What little greenish flesh remained around what used to be its mouth curled upward into a vile parody of a smile.

It regarded the bloody remains under the shattered stone angel hungrily. A blackish tongue poked through its few remaining teeth and dryly licked the area where its lips hand once been.

The thing pulled itself fully out of the ground and began to lumber forward, unhampered by the driving rain. It smelled the blood beneath the broken statue. It stopped and leaned down to dig through the rubble.

It gripped with both hands and pulled at the heavy stone. The bones of its wrist had long since become calcified and brittle. They snapped under the strain.

The thing stumbled backwards, confused by the sight of the broken, bony stumps. It tripped over an exposed tree root and fell backwards onto a squat, marble tombstone that was nearly hidden by weeds. Its dry bones shattered against it like a china teacup, spreading bone splinters and shreds of rotten flesh over the forgotten plot.

Its head, which still stared in frozen disbelief, rolled end over end through the dry weeds until it fell in the freshly made hole before the pedestal where the stone angel had stood.

Above, in the limb of a bare tree, a raven that had been watching with a curiously cocked head, shrieked with delight. It swooped down and scooped up one of the dead hands in its beak.

A melee began. Several small, indistinct, furry things scampered from dark hiding places to scavenge for the strewn bits of flesh. They collided which each other and squeaked angrily, competing for each putrid prize.

Somewhere from beyond the cemetery, a clock tolled the hour. Lightning flashed weakly, far in the distance now. It took nearly a minute for the thunder to follow. It was barely a dull belch.

The rain stopped, as did the howling wind. The clouds passed, revealing a starry sky and a bright, frosty-white full moon. Moonlight cast the shadow of a cross over the path to the mausoleum. It fell close to the furry things, and they shirked away from it, retreating into the shadows. The last of them, the largest, dragged the other bony hand with it, refusing to leave such a tasty morsel behind. As it struggled, it unknowingly crawled into the shadow of the cross. With the instantaneous flare of an odd, blue flame, the strange furry creature popped out of existence.

The rusty hinges of the mausoleum door creaked in protest for a second, and then the door slammed shut.

Not far away, a man sputtered, cursed and spit dirt from his mouth. He struggled free of the loose soil that had somehow covered him, and he climbed out of the grave into which he had fallen. His head hurt. He drew a hand instinctively to it.

He looked at it numbly as he lowered it from his head. There was blood on his hand.

He struggled to remember what had happened. Something to do with a shovel, he thought.

He called himself several names, muttering them to himself under his breath. He looked around the sleeping, peaceful cemetery. It was still wet from the sudden, violent storm, and a thin fog had begun to form in the wet, warm grass. But otherwise it was the same as always.

The gravedigger shook his head, taking it in. Bending down to retrieve his shovel, he whistled for his dog.

He was only answered by the distant tolling of a bell.