Creepypasta

They can hear you (~part 2)

:3 hai guys /.\ sorry I stop posting again ;-; school and stuff have kept me busy /.\ anyways enjoy!
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Eleven-Ten P.M., Monday....

Jim's consistent dragging of his cigarette gave him the effect of a dormant fire breathing dragon in the dark. He was leaning against the wall of the employee building when Greg stepped out into the night. Jim had a rather slim figure, but since Greg's eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness any other feature was too hard to decipher.
"Hey there, you must be Greg," Jim said. "I'm Jim Shelton, Crawford just radioed in to come and get'cha."
They shook hands in the shadows, bathed only in the dim light of the stars above.
"Hello Jim," Greg said. "I'm really excited to start working here."
"I see Crawford already told you about using first names, that's good. I'm guessing he covered all the basics then."
"Sure did. Everything from staying on the path to not developing relationships with the tenants."
Jim gave an elusive chuckle. "You seem real chipper. Don't be, this job is certainly easy but it's also really fucking boring. After a few nights on duty you'll be wishing some of these bodies would rise from the grave and do an Irish jig."
Jim quietly attempted to clear his throat. Greg could never get behind smoking; he figured it would just lead to bad health and an untimely death. Greg wasn't looking to make a bad impression however; he played along.
"Is it wrong to wish for the bodies rising out of their graves and dancing? I feel that would be a great story to tell the parents."
"You can certainly wish for it, but I wouldn't count on it. Now, let me show you around so you can get a feel for the place. Save your questions until we make it the whole way around the place. You should get a good enough feel for it all visually, just keep close."
Jim flicked his cigarette bud into the neighboring grass and made his way down the left path. Greg followed close behind. It only took a few steps before they were truly in the subdivisions of the dead. On both sides were rows of tombstones, accented by a few hanging trees for an added spice of creepy. Unlike Greg's normal picture of a movie graveyard, there was an absence of a low hanging fog or company of owl's calling for the living to beware their surroundings. With no fog to impair his now adjusted vision, Greg noticed a single structure that sat behind the back rows of tombstones on the left; a mausoleum. It stood with quiet solace, crafted stone to honor the lucky (or simply rich) soul who now called it their tomb. Greg had hoped that when he would die, he would get the same treatment.
Eventually they made it the whole way around the grounds and back to the employees building. Jim lit another cigarette and offered one to Greg.
"No thanks," Greg said. "Addiction runs in the family." A lie to cover up his pure disdain for death on a stick.
"Fair enough," Jim said through a cloud of smoke. "So got any questions? As you can tell it's a pretty simple layout, and with the map that was in your locker you should have no problems getting back on track."
"No questions really come to mind, but it sure is pretty quiet around here."
"Well there's not a lot of cheer going on around here, plus I'm sure you noticed this place is pretty isolated. Two miles to the nearest, well, anything. It's nice most of the time, helps you think more easily."
That's exactly what Greg was trying to do. He didn't want to look like the pious newbie who figured one pass through was enough to get him working the ground floor. Then again, maybe his lack of questions would make Jim think he had a good handle on the place and was ready to get cracking. He looked around quickly, and in the distance on top of the hill, he noticed the mausoleum in silent devotion.
"I wasn't aware you had mausoleums here," Greg said.
"Yeah we only build those when we have high paying customers, or at least close relatives of said customer. We have nine of them currently, and Crawford will put money into building more once the need arises. Some of them are pretty old considering this plot has been in Crawford's family for five generations, but the first one we passed was actually finished only a few days ago."
Greg didn't know why, but the thought from earlier suddenly crept back in.
"Crawford said there was a guy before I came here."
"Who, Matt?" Jim said. "He worked here for about a month or two, he looked a bit older than you but I can't remember his age."
"Why did he leave? This seems like a pretty easy well paid gig."
"Well paid, that's one of the reasons I still work here. I'm not really sure why he left. Crawford said he just barged into the employee building one night on his shift, left all his gear, and never came back. The monotony probably got to him."
"Couldn't have been more boring than being six feet under like all the others here."
"That may be so, but you'll come to find out that how boring this job can get. After all, boredom can kill a man. Let me give you one more round, just to be safe."
They set off again, tracing the entire course of the plot until they eventually made it back to the employee building. It was then time for Greg and Jim to split up to cover more ground. It was official; Greg Cassidy began his job as a cemetery curator working the graveyard shift. The first three nights went off without a hitch.

~/.\ [credit to original author] alright guys hope you liked the second part of this story /.\ I will try my best to keep posting the rest as soon as possible :v night night lovelies