The nights are pretty dark at this time of year. The fields await their first winter blanket, the trees have shed the last, crumpled memories of their summery past, and the cemetery nearby is cold and dark and dank, with the musty stench of sleep and dead flowers.
I’ve heard that creatures of every terrifying description lurk in that cemetery. Occasionally as you stroll through you think you see something and your blood runs cold, but when you turn to really look there is nothing there.
So last year I spent the night there and set up the camera, which cannot be lied to. You be the judge: photographic anomolies, or lurking terrors from beyond the grave?
Do please be careful this All Hallows’ E’en, for while it is treats you seek, it is terrors that truly await.