Spectator Sport: Land of the Dead



I got it here

The freezing cold breeze rushes past, cracking the inner of your bones. The grisly black earth teemed with the scent of death. The pitch-black sky looms above like a black hole, ready to suck in everything in its path. The dead tree trunks crackle menacingly, and the lumpy tree barks waved like demon’s finger in the wind.

The ominous earth gives way to copious slabs of stone. Some of them are made from smooth, polished marbles. Others are not as ornamental, made from rugged, gray-ish black stone. But both of them share one characteristic. They contains ornately written inscription of the long dead commemorative plaque’s owner information. The inscription enlists the plaque’s owner name, birth year, death year, and a brief description of them when they were still alive or what they are remembered for. Multitudes of the plaques are already worn out by time. Rock brittles broke off, the engrave are so worn out that it is illegible, and mosses or other kinds of plants grew on the plaque.

As the tumultuous clouds parted, the silver lunar gradually lights up the gloomy night sky. The lunar’s beam shine through the entirety of the area. Its beam reaches even the darkest cracks and crevices, and visibility became significantly clearer than before. The lone cemetery is not very large in size. It is surrounded on all four sides by black iron fences, with two polished metal gates marking the entrance and the exit. To the eastern end of the area stood a church. Some of the melody escaped into the cemetery and lingers the area, as if a lullaby to the dead. On the northern and southern end of the cemetery is the villagers’ residential area. The time is late, so all of the lights are off and the villagers to sleep. The only sound in the area is the cold night breeze blowing against the brick roofs. Finally, to the west, are the wild forests. The strident wolf howl echoes through the night, chilling everyone who heard it.

The pacific nature did not continue for long. The black metal gates clang open creakily. A tall black figure hurriedly walks into the graveyard, his leather shoes scrunching the dried leaves on the ground. He usually walks with assertive steps, but he can't control his emotions too much today. He was a man in his 20s and wears a stylish black business suit. He has a handsome face, with black eyes that gleams like topaz and straight black hair. His destination is a grave in the center of the cemetery that looks distinct than the others. The grave’s plaque is made from accurately cut black marble, and its surface is richly polished. At the instant that the man finally reaches the grave, he stares at the plaque with a mix of emotions, grief, confusion, and disbelieve. The sight affect him greatly, a rose bouquet and small ring box in his hand fell to the ground. Tears trickle down his cheeks as the man stood there silently in the lonely graveyard, never satiated. 

I got it here