The Forgotten Cemetery Story for Children
One cool autumn afternoon, she packed her camera and notebook and set off. The cemetery was hidden behind thick trees, untouched for many years. A rusty iron gate stood half-open, and the air was still and silent. Fallen leaves covered the ground, and the old tombstones were cracked and faded.
Ella pushed the gate and stepped inside. The graves were scattered, some sinking into the earth, others tilted at odd angles. It was clear no one had taken care of this place for a long time.
As she walked, she noticed something unusual. The names on the tombstones were unfamiliar, and most of the dates were over a hundred years old. But one grave stood out—a large, fancy tombstone, far grander than the others. It was at the very back, almost hidden. The stone was covered in moss, but she could read the name:
“Here lies Evelyn Blackwood.”
Ella frowned. She had never heard of Evelyn Blackwood before. She stepped closer, feeling a strange energy around the grave. The date of death was 1887, yet the writing on the stone was still clear. It felt like something was watching her.
As she reached out to touch the stone, a cold breeze rushed past her, making her shiver. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow move behind her. She spun around—but no one was there. She told herself it was just her imagination.
Then, a voice whispered, “Who are you?”
Ella froze. She turned quickly, expecting to see someone, but the cemetery was empty. Her heart pounded. The voice was soft but real.
“Hello?” she called, her voice shaking.
No answer.
The voice came again, closer this time. “Why are you here?”
Ella’s breath caught in her throat. The trees around her swayed, though there was no wind. The air grew icy, and suddenly, she felt dizzy. Something was wrong. She had to leave.
As she hurried toward the gate, the ground beneath her shifted. She stumbled, catching herself on a tombstone. Then she saw it—a dark hole in the earth, deep and empty.
Inside the pit, something small caught her eye. She reached down and pulled it out. It was an old locket, tarnished with age but beautifully designed. She opened it, and a tiny photo fell out. It showed a young woman with dark, piercing eyes.
Ella gasped. It was the same name from the gravestone—Evelyn Blackwood.
Suddenly, a cold hand gripped her shoulder.
She spun around.
A figure stood behind her—a woman, but not quite human. Her skin was pale, her eyes glowing with eerie light. Her clothes were from another time, and her long dark hair flowed like a shadow around her.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” the woman said. “This is my resting place. You’ve disturbed something you don’t understand.”
Ella’s knees went weak. “I—I didn’t mean to,” she stammered, clutching the locket. “I just wanted to learn about the cemetery. About you.”
The woman stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the locket. “That locket is mine,” she whispered. “I was the last to be buried here, the last to remain. But my soul was never allowed to rest.”
Ella swallowed hard. “What happened?”
The woman’s expression darkened. “I was accused of witchcraft. The townspeople blamed me for strange events and disappearances. They buried me here, far from their sight, but they couldn’t bury my spirit. I’ve been trapped ever since, waiting for someone to uncover the truth. And now, you have awakened me.”
Ella’s heart ached. The stories were true—the cemetery was cursed. But now she understood why.
“What do you want from me?” she asked softly.
The ghost’s face softened. “I want to be free. I want my story to be told. My name to be cleared. But no one remembers me. No one knows the truth. Except you.”
Ella looked down at the locket. She felt a deep responsibility, as if Evelyn’s fate now rested with her.
“I’ll help you,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure your story is told.”
A look of peace crossed Evelyn’s face. “Thank you,” she said, her voice fading.
As her ghostly form disappeared, the heavy feeling in the cemetery lifted. The cold air warmed. The silence felt peaceful, not eerie.
Ella stood alone, holding the locket. She knew what she had to do.
At sunrise, she left the cemetery, determined to uncover the truth about Evelyn Blackwood. Over the next few months, she researched Evelyn’s life. She found records of the false accusations and wrongful death. Then, she wrote Evelyn’s story and shared it with the world.
People in town finally remembered Evelyn—not as a witch, but as a woman who had been unfairly judged. The cemetery was no longer forgotten, and neither was Evelyn.
Ella never returned to the cemetery, but she knew she had done the right thing.
Evelyn was finally at peace.
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