When you left school that afternoon, you didn't expect to find yourself in a cemetery.

It's just that you overheard Jordan at recess the other day talking about the Biv Mausoleum,

about what you'll hear if you knock on the sight of it.

You love a good ghost story, but you know better than to trust Jordan.

Better to find out for yourself.

And besides, Maple Hill Cemetery, just so happens to be on your walk home.

Now that you're here, though, your confidence wavers.

It's one thing to enjoy the feel of goosebumps erupting across your skin after hearing a particularly chilling tail.

And it's another to go seeking those terrors for yourself.

You roll your eyes at your own cowardice.

Most likely you'll knock in here nothing.

Besides, it's broad daylight. You're pretty sure that even the most evil spirit can't attack in broad daylight. You take a step closer to the mausoleum. Shadows of trees patterning the otherwise drab white surface.

You see your own shadow's arms slowly rise, the hand forming into a fist, and knock, knock, knock.

Of course, nothing happens.

Not that you expected anything would,

but you can't help feeling a bit disappointed.

Then you hear it.

The unmistakably creak of a wooden rocking chair moving back and forth in the measured,

hypnotic rhythm of someone who's had centuries of practice.

You were prepared for this.

Knock on the crypt wall, hear the rocking chair inside.

The sound of the rocking chair isn't coming from inside.

...