... Wind rustles leaves, picking them off the floor and tossing them carelessly. It whistles and screams between branches, sending a shiver up your spine... Leaves crunch underneath your feet as you traverse a forest of skeletal trees. Thick fog surrounds the area and you barely make out the black, metal fence standing high in front of you. There's a bell jingling from one of the poles and dead torches, long forgotten.


A sign swings and you make out the words:


THE GRAVEYARD.


The gate unlatches itself, squeaking open slowly. Purposefully. It's like it wants you there.


Dare to enter?


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