![]() She landed sprawling facedown, her nose crunching into the stinging snow. Rose Rita tripped over a stone and stumbled. The black mongrel dog came running behind her, snarling, its eyes glowing a fiery red. The closest ones reached for her legs and tried to trip her. Other graves were wide open, and skeletons clad in rotting clothes were hoisting themselves out of the ground, turning their horrible dirt-caked grins in her direction. The graves were all erupting! Bony arms thrust upward everywhere, lashing around and scrabbling. She ran, her weak ankle stabbing with pain. With horror she felt the earth heave beneath her, as if something were burrowing up toward her like a monstrous mole. ![]() ![]() She stepped on a low mound, a snow-covered grave, and to her shock she heard a muffled voice below her feet: "Who is that up there? I want company!" She wanted to run, but the grave markers were so thick, they threatened to trip her. She turned helplessly this way and that, but the rows of tombstones stretched on in every direction. ![]()
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