Even though he had such a desire to slap himself in the face for accepting that dare, Henry crossed his fingers and plodded towards the cemetery–the place where all the horror stories in town originated. Reluctantly, Henry reached out his hands and touched the cold, rusted bars of the gate. “Please be locked!” whispered Henry to himself. Squeezing his eyes, the teenage boy pushed on the bars.
The two gigantic shadows drifted away from Henry’s feet, like guards from the kingdom of death welcoming their young guest. With disappointment, Henry let out a shaky sigh and raised his head. In front of him were two massive gravestones standing erectly at the top of a grand staircase. Notches were all over the bricks of the ancient graves, but no one will ever know if those scars came under the cruel ax of time or from the boring tricks of men.
“Strange…” said Henry as he walked up the stairs, feeling as though a vague but strong part inside of him was deeply attracted to this place. With the unexplainable feeling, Henry suddenly noticed the delicate carvings on the gravestones, but just as his middle finger was one inch away from the wall, a blinding bolt of lightning struck straight down from the sky of this still night and set the forest next to the cemetery on blemming fire. Then a strong wind followed, stirring up all leaves and threw them ruthlessly into the midst of the air. As the wind slowly died down, Henry hesitantly slid his arms off of his face and was startled. He saw a pair of black wings opened wide in front of him. The black of the feathers was so pure that it matched perfectly with the darkness of the night, and their owner was the most beautiful human being Henry had ever encountered. Her hair was silver, shining brightly under the moonlight, flowing in the air with the gentle wind. She had on a dress, dark as her wings, drifting to the floor, shaping out her feminine body. But Henry’s favorite part was her eyes, pure, perfect purple, just like his…