LIFE AND "DEATH" James shivered as he looked up at the tall, intricately wrought iron gate of the Morton Hills Cemetery. It wasn’t the autumn cold that sent a chill up his spine, but the twisted and knotted iron bars that called to mind a grizzly smile with bared metal teeth. But the five year old boy had to get past those teeth, into the mouth of the graveyard to bring back what he came for. “You know, your mom’s in there,” his dad had told him earlier that day, referring to a black box resting next to a big hole in the ground. They were at this same graveyard, James knew. It was the one down the street from his house, where his mom and dad would take him for walks every morning. But somehow, with the sun almost set, the place looked spookier than it ever did during the day. “In the box?” James remembered asking his dad. He thought that was pretty cool. He’d seen cl...
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