The damp cold air smelled heavily of mildew as I approached the entrance of the cemetery. I slowly reached to push open the gate but stopped just as my hand made contact with the rusty iron. I shrieked in pain and surprise; the metal was burning hot. My friends encouraged me to keep going. It wasn't even completely dark out, they said. I took a deep breath and stood tall with feigned confidence. I knew it was bad to give into peer pressure

but I didn't want to chicken out. Their dare to go into the cemetery alone wasn't even that difficult. As I looked over the gate and into the cemetery at the rows of gravestones surrounded by the early morning mist, I felt a sharp chill run through my body. I ignored it and pulled my sleeve up over my hand and pushed the gate open. It creaked loudly and a black cloud of ravens startled and flew off from the sudden noise. My friends cheered and I tip-toed slowly deeper into the depths of the cemetery. I was just about the call it and turn back when I heard a low moaning sound coming from directly behind me. I froze and a clammy feeling came over me. The moaning got louder and louder but I still couldn't move. A second passed. I held my breath. Suddenly, something brushed up against my shoulder. With tears in my eyes, I glanced down to see a bony skeleton hand. I let out a scream of horror.