<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Heading home from school: a mundane and tasking ordeal as my classmate and I make the mile-long trek. </p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Our walk along Waltham Park Road usually takes us past a few amango trees and we make good use of the sweet, blissful nectars. </p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>“Gavin, mek wi go tru di cemetery nuh?! De aaman tree supposed to full and ripe by now,” my friend Patrick* remarked.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>“Mi nuh like walk deh enuh, and Mama seh wi nuffi walk tru deh again, yuh waan mi get lick brejin?” I retorted.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>“A fraid yuh fraid! Look how much time we play football in deh and play marble? mi wah aaman before mi gwope,” he whipped, asking, “Yuh nuh waan ketch Dragon Ball Z before it start?”</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:image {"id":3695} -->
<figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="https://buzz-caribbean.com/app/uploads/2019/08/buzz-memories-1-1024x829.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-3695" /></figure>
<!-- /wp:image -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Being the second half of our mischievous rag-tag duo, I couldn’t possibly say no; Patrick was not my only friend, but we were closer than the actual brothers I was forced to live with. So yes, into the Chinese cemetery we went.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>At the time, there was an opening in the perimeter wall that surrounded the massive property – cutting our walk time in half, we had been there many times and easily wormed our way through the crack.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Skipping over a few graves and running in between the tombstones, one could say the cemetery was a favourite for children, despite repeated warnings from adults.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>‘Cursed’ and ‘haunted’ were some of the words used to describe the cemetery, nonetheless, many kids flocked its grounds day and night, doing and playing everything imaginable.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>This time was different for me and Patrick, we’ve never been here after the end of the evening shift at primary school – the sunset was quite advanced, and darkness crept slowly across the Kingston sky.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>The almond tree was in sight and so Patrick and I grabbed some stones and threw them without abandon, trying to wrest the branches of a few fruits. </p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:image {"id":3693} -->
<figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="https://buzz-caribbean.com/app/uploads/2019/08/buzz-memories-2-1024x807.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-3693" /></figure>
<!-- /wp:image -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>They weren’t something I particularly enjoyed but Patrick seemed to be enraptured.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>It was as we sat in the near-darkness, munching greedily away before going home, at that moment, in the silence, we heard the sounds. </p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>The uncanny recognition of footsteps was not a great cause for concern, however, my friend and I saw no one – just the sounds that gave the position away.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>“Yow! A wah kinda ramping unno a deal wid. A night enuh! Unno naave nuh yaad?” Patrick shouted out into the night, the anxiety setting deep in his bones.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>It became increasingly harder to concentrate as the footsteps encroached ever so slowly, closer to us and the mound of almond shells nearby.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>“Me ah guh home enuh Patrick, dis nuh feel right,” I beckoned, trying to break my best friend’s incessant questioning of the darkness.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:image {"id":3696} -->
<figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="https://buzz-caribbean.com/app/uploads/2019/08/buzz-memories-3-1024x762.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-3696" /></figure>
<!-- /wp:image -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Patrick pulled out a pencil from his bag, so did I and we sharpened them with the intent to inflict pain on anyone that dared come any closer – and closer they did.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>At this point, there were only three sounds – mine and Oneil’s ragged breathing, and the menacing rhythm of approaching footsteps – the fear paralysing us; keeping us frozen in place.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>That’s when two dots appeared, unassuming and harmless at first, until they grew, revealing reddish eyes. </p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Then, to our collective horror, two arms appeared, trying to embrace us in a cold, deathly hug and we lost any sense of remaining composure.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Us two boys ran like our lives depended on it, beyond terrified, screaming all the whole way home.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:image {"id":3697} -->
<figure class="wp-block-image"><img src="https://buzz-caribbean.com/app/uploads/2019/08/buzz-memories-4-1024x853.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-3697" /></figure>
<!-- /wp:image -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>The trauma etched on our faces was concerning, but no matter how hard our families pressed for answers, we never spoke.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>The next day, at school, Patrick and I sat silent during lunchtime – at a loss at what transpired the night before.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>“Mi nah go back in deh,” he started, and it was the first time I ever heard Patrick’s voice shake. </p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>I never told him that I made the mistake of looking back as we fled – convincing myself that I was just checking that we weren’t been chased by whatever it was.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>It was a woman, or at least that’s how my mind processed what I had seen.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Its skin so pale, eyes bloodshot red, that growling sound it made as we ran. </p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>But it was the scream as it faded away, disappearing into the darkness – the sight forever haunts me…</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->

<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p>Do you have any horror tales of your own? Tell us at <strong>BUZZ</strong>.</p>
<!-- /wp:paragraph -->