Here is an excerpt of a piece I’m working on now. What do you think?
Suddenly he is able to move. The night is black and starless and the moon is hidden by the dark or simply swallowed whole by the yawning void around him. A memory that has been locked away, hidden from consciousness is released in a wave of light and image. Bobby looks down and sees the freshly dug grave. The overturned soil is moist and fragrant and borders the yawning hole the stretches downward into the bowels of the earth. Inside a faint light flickers on the breath of the dead. A rope is anchored by a black iron spike that is hammered into the ground. Bobby is seven years old and curiosity outweighs fear and common sense in this age of wonder over science.
As he descends downward, slowly, hand over hand, into the darkness the stale air of stone and clay replaces the scent of freshly dug dirt. He reaches the bottom of the grave and hears distant moaning that drifts on the slight underground current of stagnant air. He walks toward the flickering light and the moaning grows louder but is accented by the rattling of chains scraping on stone. Whispers, now he hears the whispers as they caress his spine raising gooseflesh. The voice calls him forward and he trudges through the darkness until he sees a figure before him. The figure wears the brown cloak of his brotherhood and looks angelic in front of the flickering candles.
“Come forward”, the figure tells him.