I made my first trek to the haunted confines of the tiny boneyard in an effort to set the staging and help the historical society find specific grave markers for characters to be written about.
I didn't have any sensation; I didn't see or hear a thing. Perhaps the residents knew we were there to celebrate them rather than taunt or confront.
We did find an empty bottle of liquor on the top of one headstone. Teenagers no doubt, perhaps they too came to commune with the undead with cheap bourbon and a Ouija board.
I just hope the reason for my uneventful trip was because the inhabitants were too busy torturing the damned fool who desecrated their hollow ground.
One can only hope.