Ghostly Guardian

The grave robber shivered, before hurriedly following his companion as he weaved around gravestones. "I don't think we should be doing this.” he whispered, his trembling hands tightening and loosening their grip on his shovel handle. His partner turned to face him, the point of his shovel digging into the damp earth as he leaned forward on the handle. “Don’t be such a coward Shank; it’s just another graveyard full of dead people.”
“But what about all the rumors, the townsfolk-”
“Are completely crazy,” Shanks’ companion cut it, “there is no such thing as a ghost rider who patrols this graveyard, claming the souls of any who try to desecrate the graves.”
Shank glanced around nervously, “Then why haven’t any of the graves ever been robed? If there wasn’t a ghost people like us would have picked this place clean long ago!”
“Only idiots believe in spirits, and I’m not an idiot. But I have to thank those crazy townsfolk, all the robbers they’ve frightened away have left use all the graves we could ever want! “Greedily rubbing his hands together, the robber chuckled. “I hear that a few noblemen have been berried here, imaging the treasure buried with ‘im, just waiting for us to take it!”
“But John-” Shank tried to argue, but the cold glare John gave him quickly silenced any argument.


John opened his mouth to berate his companion for allowing himself to be so easily spooked, when a sudden chill in the air caused him to pause. Mist enveloped the graves like a silent hunter, moving in on the two robbers with surprising speed. Within seconds the two grave robbers could see only a few feet in front of them, as the mist completely cut them off from the rest of the world.

“John,” Shank said nervously, but his voice was swallowed by the mist. As quickly as the mist had appeared, it began to fade, and then a came the noise. It started small and the two barely noticed it at first, now they could hear it. Hollow hoof beats, steadily growing louder. It was so cold; the two could not remember a time when they had felt this cold before; their breaths forming into white clouds in front of them. Breathe coming in quick gasps John barely managed to surprise the panic growing in his chest, threatening the send him running headlong into the mist in an attempt to escape what ever was coming. Shank had no such restraint, and would have broken into a breakneck speed if it weren’t for a power that prevented him from moving.

Seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly as the two would be grave robbers watched a form appear from the mist and shadows. As moonlight shone threw the mist the two companions could still make out the translucent form of a horse and its cloaked rider, making their way down one of the many paths that crisscrossed throughout the graveyard. Upon reaching the row where the two men coward the ghostly rider brought his horse to a stop, slowly as if he had all the time in the undead-world- which he did - the specter turned his head to look at the two who had trespassed into his land. Even though its face hidden in the shadows of its hood the men knew that it was staring at them, a feeling of despair washed over them, the stories had been true. The graveyard did have a loyal guardian, and by attempting to trespass and robe the graves he had been called to protect. They had incurred his wrath.

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Finished piece (C) the me

Stock (C) to right owners

Graveyard- [link]

Horse and Rider- [link]