Chapter 1

The Graveyard Tour; something I dreaded every year with my family. For some reason my Father thought I needed a 'cultural awakening' about our small town - every year, mind you. It was the same tour, every year: how the French and the Brits fought for decades until finally some Acadians were expelled, and some people died, blah blah blah. Boring!

"Sophie can hold the lantern," Dad announced as he thrust the lantern in my hands. I scowled as Mom and Dad kept walking with the rest of the group. What happened to just asking? Maybe I didn't want to hold the lantern? Did they ever think about what I wanted? Sure as hell didn't feel like they did, otherwise I'd be at Kaitlyn's house with the rest of my friends.

I didn't need to walk over stupid graves every year to be reminded about why century old corpses were buried beneath my feet. Or that the women here used to marry any eligible bachelor after their husband died from the war. Gold diggers.

I moped throughout most of the tour. I did not want to be here again!

I scuffed my feet along the grass worn path lined with old english oak trees, from one tombstone to the next; a tomb of a small child. I stared at my feet, pretending to not listen to the French tour guide, who was somehow related to us through generations of the Melanson family. Something my Father tried to lecture me about earlier in the van before we arrived. I just turned my iPod up louder.

I could see dad in my peripherals adjusting his glasses as he examined the small tombstone in the dim light provided by the lanterns held by everyone in the group; it was a white tomb, barley legible expect for the picture of a skull with wings carved at the top, morbid for a child’s tomb when all the 'adults' had the same picture. I wondered if that child had been a little brat like some of my cousins. I almost gagged in my mouth thinking about the little terrors. I wanted to die every time I was asked to babysit.

So, I was just standing there, minding my own business as best as I could given the circumstances of being voluntold to hold this stupid lantern when all of a sudden this hand shoots up out of the ground! Like WTF?

Apparently no one else was paying attention to this except me as I looked around at the group of people just staring at the tour guide, when the guide decided that it was time to move to the next grave. Everyone started walking, like a hand out of the ground was normal, when this lady's kid stepped on it.

Crunch.

And then the kid kicked it! Seesh, kids these days are so stupid.

"Kyle! stop kicking sticks! You might hurt someone!" Kyle's mother scolded.

"It wasn't a stick!" Kyle protested, "It was a hand mom!"

"Oh really? Well you shouldn't be kicking those either!" The mother patronized.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the crushed pile of bone as the rest of the group kept walking. I set the lantern on the ground, the flame flickered with the wind. Normally I didn't touch disgusting things, I'm afraid of spiders (I swear they're secretly plotting my demise), and I hate, hate, hated bugs. Except for ants. They're okay.

I was just about to touch the little pile of bones. My finger an inch away from was appeared to be a nail when they magically reconstructed themselves.

I fell back on my butt, "Holycrap!" I managed to grunt. The ground surrounding the hand started to move, then rise; hands gripped the grass and pulled until eventually a little corpse rose, then stood in front of me. Her white dirt stained dress was so aged I was surprised it didn't rot off. Half of her head was skull, the other half hair and flesh. Oh, gross. She smelled like rotting poo. I plugged my nose.

I peered at her face from behind my hand, she had no eyes, and smiled. Well tried to smile. It was more of a half lip, half bone and tooth smile. A piece of flesh that hung from her chin dropped to the ground. Splat.

Eww. I tried not to vomit as I nervously looked around to see where my parents were.

The corpse took a couple steps toward me while I sat, paralyzed with fear as I stared at that creepy grin she wore.

"Je peux vous sentir." Her grin widened.

"Huh?"

"Vous êtes l'un d'entre nous." She turned her neck around, exorcist style, to the tour group behind her. "Certains d'entre eux ne sont pas."

"Look, er, kid. I don’t have a clue what you're saying. Maybe it would be best if you just get back in the ground..." My voice was shaky as I spoke. It sounded as though she was speaking French. I racked my brain back to the French classes I hardly paid attention in. But still got a decent mark. I guess I learned something.

"Ils doivent mourir." She hissed, my thoughts snapped back to reality.

"Wait, mourir? Doesn't that mean die?" My eyes widened in horror. I didn't want to die. My meager fifteen years on this planet seemed very insignifiant at that moment. I briefly thought of all the dances I would miss, the first kiss I desperately wanted with Brandon, the guy I had been crushing on since, like, second grade.

She bolted toward the group before I could blink an eye.

Reviews

[Chris]

A different take on a horror's beginning.

[OrvisEd]

Thank you for the wonderful reviews! This summer I plan on doing research on the Acadian Expulsion, Port Royal, and Fort Anne. All of these places will be crucial to this piece but I want to get the history right. I actually went on one of these graveyard tours last summer at Fort Anne, and it was so interesting that I started this chapter; I literally *had* to write it because I couldn't get it out of my head! This will be a very funny and educational book for younger teens about Acadian (Cajun) history.

[Sue Hart]

Okay, you had me laughing with this one. The plot will be interesting to hear. She's a typical teenager too. Loved that about the character.

[Jacquelene Vanessa More..]

This is wonderful! I want more!