"I wouldn't go near that tombstone if I were you, sonny," croaked out the old black man leaning against the door jam of the local fizz shop.
"What do you think I am, old man?" sneered the young boy leaning over the handlebars of his bike.
"A fool is what I say."
"Well, what you think doesn't matter."
"I'm a tellin a for your own good." He pointed his gnarled finger at him, giving him the evil eye.
The boy didn't believe in all the supernatural, voodoo, magic mumbo jumbo shit. Digging up someone's bones or skull didn't bother him a bit. And if that is what he had to do to prove his manhood to the other boys he would. People had been diggin up each other for centuries and no one was ever cursed because of it.
"You're just scared old man. Besides if anyone tried anything on me I'd cut him into pieces using my machete and then see how spooky his ass was."
"You don't know shit sonny." The ole man just shook his head at the boy. He didn't know now but here soon he would realize all too soon that black magic, voodoo dolls and curses lived on. They had no expiration date. And that damn machete wouldn't do him a bit of good against the spirits of the dead.
He watched the young boy as he rode toward the only grave yard in town. The sun was setting. It wouldn't be long now. That was the problem with this younger generation. They had no respect for anyone or anything let alone the old ways. Ways that never faded with time.
Sonny would learn just like everyone else in town. You don't cross the dead. The old man knew that once the grave was disturbed things that were thought only to be nightmares would roam the land freely once more. He was just too damn tired and old to fight such things anymore. This time the spirits could have their way with the humans.
"Don't say I didn't warn you." He was gone in the blink of an eye as if he had never been.
