When I was much younger, I lived in a bleak, little apartment which was right next door to a very old cemetery. I took the apartment because it was cheap and I was poor, at the time I didn't believe in ghosts.
On the night of the first full moon, to occur during my stay, I found myself restless and struck by cabin fever. I decided I had to go for a walk to burn off the excess energy so I bundled myself up against the cold and headed out on my constitutional.
As I arrived at the front of my building I had a decision to make, walk North towards town, or go South past the cemetary. I chose the latter, intrigued by the sratues and old upright headstones I saw out on my adventure.
I didn't realize how large the cemetary was, from my window it went over a hill and I assumed that was near the far border. As I walked I was enjoying the old growth trees, bare of leaves on this Winter night, I simply lost track of time and the distance I'd covered.
I found myself over the hill I thought was the far border and found the wall went on for another half-mile before I saw gates, I almost returned home, but I was srill not tired and this massive city of the dead intrigued me, so I continued.
When I got to the gates they opened with a loud shriek from the hinges, which almost sent me running home, but I caught my breath and decided to continue. I had gone no more than a hundred yards before I turned off the path and began to walk among the headstones, admiring the beautiful stone work of the angel statues and the private crypts. I don't believe this work could be reproduced in this day and age. As Iwas thinking, I was not paying attention to what was going on around me.
I looked up and all around and was pleasantly surprised to see another man walking up near the top of the hill facing my apartment. As I watched, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, the man reached the top of the hill, slowly turned around and pointed directly at me, and I heard a scream not unlike the one the gate had made!
i took off as fast as my feet would carry me, and found myself back at my apartment building before anything else registered. As I returned home, climbing the three flights of stairs, two at a time, I locked and bolted the door behind me.
it took a few days for me to start blaming this incident on my imagination, and I summoned up the courage to open the heavy drapes I had pulled shut out of fear. When I looked down at the cemetary I saw someone walking along the top of the hill, it was the same figure and I heard the scream again as he turned and pointed at me! I left that apartment that night and never returned, sleeping in my car and living at the YMCA until I could find a new place, with no dead neighbors!