Author's Note: Although this story is in the first person, I am not the character in the story.

STORY NUMBER THREE: THE TOMBSTONES

Marcy was a new girl in our tenth-grade class. I know it's pretty mean, but my friends and I would always pick on her every day. Shannon, Robyn, Melanie, and I would tease her, embarrass her, take her money, and beat her up almost on a daily basis. I knew how much we were hurting her, but all my friends were doing it, and picking on Marcy definitely boosted my cool-rating.

Then, one day, all of that changed.

One day, after we had beaten Marcy up, a little harder than usual. Everyone cheered. Marcy was known as the "weird kid" around our school, not just because she was new, but she was also into weird stuff. You know, supernatural things. She read about voodoo and other superstitious crap.

She challenged us, "If you're so tough, let's see you break into the cemetery at midnight."

The cheering stopped. Everyone had heard the rumors.

The legend was that long ago, before they drained the blood out of dead people, some people had near-death experiences, and came back to life in their coffins, where they suffocated. Now their spirits supposedly haunt the cemetery from midnight 'till dawn.

"Sure, why not?" Shannon asked.

Just then, the crowds became loud again, saying things like, "Do you think they'll do it?" "No way, they'll get killed!" "Yeah, right, those rumors aren't true!" "Oh, yeah, let's see you in that cemetery!" "Uh... I'm not allowed out past ten."

"Are you sure you want to?" Marcy asked, as if daring us to. "If you go in there, you have my personal guarantee that you will die.

She was just joking, right?

That night, Shannon lead us down Main Street towards the cemetery.

"Hey, Dora, what's the matter? Are you shaking?" Melanie asked me.

Yes, my name is Dora. I hate that name, because of a certain explorer with it, but my parents won't let me change my name.

"No," I lied, "it's just freezing cold out here.

Okay, I was pretty nervous, but, come on, you'd probably be afraid, too.

Shannon jumped the gate first, then Robyn, then Melanie. I was hesitant at first, but not going in would sure as heck ruin my reputation.

For some strange reason, Robyn wanted us to go to the far end of the cemetery. She said she heard someone calling her there, but I thought she was only trying to scare us.

But Shannon, being Robyn's twin sister, believed her, so Melanie and I went, too.

We arrived at four tombstones. Shannon shined the flashlight on one.

"Hey, Melanie, what's your name doing on this tombstone?"

"Beats me," she answered. "Maybe it's my mom's. I was named after her."

"No, this says 'BORN: February 18, 1984. That's you're birthday."

"Well, maybe my mom just placed mine in here before I died."

"Then why does it say, "DIED: March 27, 2000"?

"Weird..." she muttered.

Shannon shined her light on the next one. It read "Shannon Webber- BORN: October 2, 1983. DIED: March 28, 2000."

The next one said the same thing, only with Robyn's name on it.

The last one had my name. "BORN- January 30. DIED: March 29, 2000."

"This is way creepy," Robyn said. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, let's go," Melanie replied.

Little did I know that was the last time I'd see Melanie.

"That jerk!" Shannon screamed at us the next day. She slammed her locker door shut. "I can't believe he'd go out of his way just to hit Melanie!"

"Settle down," Shannon, I said. "It was in the middle of the night, and that guy was sleepy. It's not his fault. Melanie shouldn't have been jaywalking, anyway."

"Do you think that had anything to do with the tombstones?" Robyn asked, worried.

"No way," Shannon assured her. "It's just a coincidence."

Speaking of coincidence, that was the day that Shannon and Robyn both died of heart attacks during third period.

I spent a long time that day looking for Marcy. When I finally found her, I said, "Look, Marcy-"

"What? You want my money again? Fine, take it."

"No, I don't want your money. I just wanted to say..."

"What is it?" she snapped, rudely. I didn't blame her. The bell was about to ring.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks. I could tell she was trying to fight back tears in her eyes. But before I could say anything more, she ran off.

The next day, I asked Mr. Jones where Marcy was.

"You didn't hear? Marcy shot herself yesterday," was all he told me.

In the corner of the room, I saw Marcy's backpack. I picked it up, and a book fell out. Opening the book, I read the first paragraph my eyes fell upon. It read:

Once your victim sees their grave, their fate is sealed. They will die the date the tombstone says. The only way to reverse this spell is to sacrifice yourself in place of one of the victims.

Now it all made sense. Marcy sacrificed herself for me.

It took me seven years before I had enough courage to go back into the cemetery. Melanie's, Robyn's, and Shannon's tombstones were still there. But mine wasn't. Marcy's was in my place.

Is it possible that Marcy really had control over life and death? Or was it all a giant coincidence? Either way, don't miss the moral of the story.

When you mess with the unknown, there are grave consequences.