A Short Story

I was invited to a party following the ghost stories at Crown Hill Cemetery last week. I am not one to turn down an event, even if it starts at 11:00!

I was one of the last to leave the storytelling tent as I was chatting away with friends and other storytellers. Finally I picked up all my things (bag, blanket, cape, etc.) and meandered back to my Jeep. Most of the cars were gone by then which made it a bit eerie, but there were a few folks leaving late like me. The lights in the tent were still on as the sound man was wrapping things up.

I put the new address into the GPS, situated myself in the Jeep, and followed the clear instructions. "Turn left. Take a right. Turn left. Turn left.") etc. 

I trust my GPS. I need my GPS, but on that night I don't believe it knew it was nearing the midnight hour as my Jeep continued weaving around the curvy roads of the cemetery. I reached a gate, however, it was chained and locked.

Now I know there are several entrances to the cemetery as it is so large. There are over thirty miles of roads with the 200,000 folks calling it "home". 

I started over and ended up at the same gate. Now I began to panic. I locked the doors (?) and started to look for the storytelling tent. It was as if it vanished. I drove around with headlights glaring on tombstones and old trees. Where was that tent? How will I get out of here?

After 15 minutes I finally found the storytelling tent and there was one last truck beginning to leave. Quickly I followed that vehicle and made my way to the front entrance and out on to the streets.

I was thinking if I didn't find my way out, I would have to call 911. But how to explain that one?  Hmmm... I got to the party a bit late.

All in all, I now have another good story to tell.