Any Time. Any Place. Any Day. Getaway.

Ghosts in the Graveyard
by Kim Bowman

Product Information

Genre: Paranormal/ Ghost Story

Length: 60 pages

ISBN: 9781940695037

Middle Grade & up

eBook Price: $.99

Print Book: $3.99

Product001 tab spacing

Most kids can’t wait to dress up in costumes and go trick or treating on Halloween. Not the Foster children. Even the promise of receiving a slew of candy doesn’t interest them. Charlie, Jack, and Millie know the truth about All Hallows Eve. That it’s a day to fear, a day when the dead walk the earth again. And with their house sitting directly behind a graveyard, they are prime targets for the spirits to haunt…

Chapter One

When witches go riding, and black cats are seen,
the moon laughs and whispers, ‘tis near Halloween.
~Author Unknown

“Charlie, I’m scared. I don’t want the bogies to come.”
Four-year-old Millie Foster looked up at her big brother with wide, frightened eyes as she pointed out the window toward the cemetery. Charlie focused his attention in the same direction and his stomach tightened. He didn’t want the bogies to come either, dreaded seeing nightfall approach. The scene out the window only heightened his fear.
Dusk had set in, causing long, eerie shadows of the gravestones to stretch toward the house as if reaching for them. The grassy field between the cemetery and the back door of the Foster home was the only barrier of protection they had against the restless souls buried there. The bright, deep red of the setting sun cast a glow across the earth that made it look like blood was blanketing the cemetery. The mist on the ground billowed up, mixing with the dark shadows and the crimson rays of the sun, making it appear that the spirits were rising up from their graves, escaping. And Charlie had no doubt that on this night, the night when the veil between the dead and the undead lifted, the roused spirits would once again descend on their quiet home.
A chill ran up Charlie’s spine and he wrapped his arm around Millie, pulling her close. He knew if he was scared, Millie had to be terrified.
“It’ll be okay, Silly Millie. Me and Jack’ll keep you safe.” At least he hoped so, wondering where their eight-year-old brother was. He should have been back from his supply run by now. Charlie hoped he hadn’t been caught by their mother.
“And Mommy too?”
“And Mommy too.”
“Can I sleep in your room tonight?”
“Sure. You and me and Jack can have a slumber party.” Charlie tickled her and Millie giggled. “But we better not tell Mom.”
“Cuz Mommy will get very mad if she hears us talkin’ ’bout ghosts. She don’t believe us that we saw them come right in the house.”
Their mother had scolded him and Jack for hours over scaring Millie with their “silly nonsense” about the dead coming to life on Halloween. Said she’d lived by the cemetery her whole life and had never seen any ghosts and that if she caught them filling Millie’s head with more of their stories, she’d wash their mouths out with soap every day for a week. Then she’d make them read five chapters from the Bible. Out loud.
“I wish Daddy was here.”
“Me too, Silly Millie.” Charlie smiled at the little moppet. He knew there was no way Millie remembered their father. She’d only been a few months old when he’d left for war. Charlie barely remembered their dad and he’d been six when Charles Senior’s unit had been called to fight. But she talked about him like she knew him, claimed to play games with him. Charlie thought that was good, even if their mother didn’t like it and told him to quit encouraging Millie’s imagination. But he liked talking about their father and told her stories about him, mostly to keep the man fresh in his own mind, just in case…
Millie puffed her chest out. “He’d believe us. He’d help us keep the ghosts in the graveyard!”
Charlie smiled at her conviction. “He sure would, Silly M—”
“I got it! I got it!” Jack yelled as he ran into the room, a flour sack in one hand and one of their mother’s kitchen crocks in the other.
“Quiet! We don’t want Mother to know what we’re doing,” Charlie whispered as he resisted the urge to clamp a hand over Jack’s big mouth.

If you ask bestselling author Kim Bowman's husband, he'd say she spends her days emailing her cyber best friend and writing partner, Kay Springsteen, drinking soda, and eating white chocolate. While that might be true, she also chases their four-year-old son Cage around, thinks about the housework she should be doing, and brainstorms her next favorite book. She's had the writing bug since she was a teenager and is happy to now live her dream of being a full-time author.

You can connect with Kim on Facebook, Twitter, or her Blog.