The Odd Family's Book of Bedtime Stories

100 Step Cemetery

"I thought you said this was going to be scary." Carl Harris said to his friend, Adam. Behind them, another one of their friends groaned. Adam rolled his eyes, looking at Carl doubtfully.

"This movie is scary, Carl," he said flatly. "Stop trying to act like you're not afraid of anything."

"I'm not." Carl protested. That wasn't necessarily true. Carl was absolutely terrified of frogs, not that he would ever tell anyone that. Ever. He shrugged at the friends gathered around him and turned up his nose. They all groaned in unison.

"I say we put it to the test," Frank Jones said. He was a mean little boy, and Carl had no idea why Adam had invited him to his birthday party. Frank had a mean gleam in his eye too, the same one he always got when he was up to something. "I've got just the thing." He added, digging in his pockets. Carl was about to fire back a witty retort when Adam interrupted him.

"No, it's my birthday," he protested. "I get to pick the challenge."

"Give me your best shot." Carl replied. Adam grinned wickedly. Carl hoped he didn't somehow know about the frogs. Instead, Adam glanced out the dark window before leaning in.

"You all know 100 Step Cemetery, don't ya?" He said, jerking his head toward the dark window. "It's only a block or two from here. There're some steps there, right? One hundred of 'em. My dad says that if you climb those steps at midnight, the ghost of an undertaker will appear and show you a vision of your own death."

"Happened to my cousin." one boy chimed in, nodding his head. Carl rolled his eyes. Everyone always knew someone who knew someone that these sorts of things happened to.

"That's lame." Frank scoffed. Carl had to agree with him.

"It is, man," he told his friend, "lame."

"Then do it." Adam challenged, "unless you're too scared."

"Whatever." Carl replied, pulling himself up and looking around for his shoes.

Within minutes, the boys were all sneaking out the back door, armed with flashlights. They walked in a small crowd beneath the streetlights, getting louder as they went and then quieting down when the cemetery came into view. There was an uncertain tension in the air. Carl looked around cautiously at them. They were all scared, even Frank.

"Alright then," Adam spoke up first, handing Carl a piece of white chalk. "Take that up to the hundredth step. Write your name there so we can see and we'll check it in the morning." Carl snatched the chalk from his hand and scoffed. He shook his head at his wide-eyed audience before taking off into the cemetery.

Carl's grandmother had been buried in the cemetery so he knew where the steps were, but he wished they hadn't made him go all the way alone. He swung his flashlight as he walked. The light swayed back and forth, Carl scanning the headstones and mausoleums for any sign of movement. Cemeteries were spooky, especially so close to midnight. A frog croaked in the distance, making him shudder, but Carl kept going. His reputation was more important than his fear.

Finally, Carl found the steps. He looked up from the bottom for only a second before taking off. He carefully counted each step under his breath as he went.

"Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred." Carl stopped on the last step and clicked his heels together, looking around cautiously. Nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing out here?" Carl nearly jumped out of his skin at the old man's voice. He stood behind Carl on the steps, just a few feet away, and he looked annoyed. "Cemetery's closed." He didn't look like a ghost at all, and Carl decided that this was the caretaker and not the undertaker he'd heard about.

"Yeah, sorry." Carl replied, "just a dare from my friends to walk through here. I'll be on my way." The man's eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed. Not wanting the old man to call the cops, or worse- his mother; Carl set off.

In a rush to get away from the creepy old man, Carl wasn't paying attention. His ankle twisted on some wet moss, and he lost his balance. Giving a shout, he tried to toss himself backwards or to reach out for the railing, but he was unsuccessful. The first step his head hit made him see stars. Pain raced throughout his body as he smashed various body parts into different steps. Carl tumbled to the bottom, head over feet. When he finally landed with a sickening crunch, his head was twisted at an unnatural angle, blood oozing down his face. He had broken his neck.

Carl jerked, panting. He was back on the hundredth step at the very top. He looked around him, trembling, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. Carl was alone. A cool breeze picked up and circled around him, chilling him to the bone. Suspicious, the teen looked over each railing, wanting to see if the old man was hiding there, but found nothing.

Carl looked up the steps. It was darker there and from what he could see, with the shaky light from his flashlight, there was a lot of moss. He couldn't climb the railing. Turning, Carl looked down the steps. There suddenly seemed to be so many more than there was when he came up. Holding his breath, Carl took the first step carefully. He took one at a time, gripping his flashlight in one hand and the railing in the other.

It was the fourth step that did it. The ancient stone crumbled, and Carl lost his balance with a shout. The flashlight smashed into the railing before going tumbling down the stone steps with him, its light flashing wildly onto different graves. For a moment, Carl thought he saw his grandmother standing on the other side of the railing.

He was gone before he reached the bottom.