Updated: What could this be?

The result of writing when you are half asleep is that you lose sense of timing and tenses. Have corrected the gramatical confusion below.
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The glazed moon smiles down at you. In the background, one hears the owl hooting, his round eyes staring straight at you and into a firmament that is a firmament to you, because you cannot see.

You are sitting here in the black organdy grandmother made you wear, a black hat pulled low over your black curls and snub nose, and button-boot legs hugged to your body. Your back is against a headstone, of somebody's ancestor. It is around eleven at night, half hour since you left the church meeting. On your walk home with the rest of the gang, you had poured scorn on Evelyn who told you she would never walk pass the graveyard at night, because Johnny has told Sylvia, who then told her, that he had seen a figure in dark cape and hat, hanging about the graveyard one night, when he was driving by in his buggy. Johnny had been caught in a downpour in another town and had therefore arrived back late. He had decided to take the small path that cuts through the church land as he was in a hurry to get home, hoping to reach the main road leading to his side of town sooner. He noticed that the figure was as tall as a man, but standing very still. He thought he saw a face, but could not quite remember. He decided to drive on, with the silent figure standing just 500 metres away. When Johny looked again through the corner of his eye, just before he turned onto the main road, the figure had vanished.

Poo-poo. You said. That's just a figure from a fairy tale. Johnny likely made that up to impress Sylvia. You know that he has a thing for her. Deep down, you know you are fascinated by someone yourself, and today, he happened to be walking back with the rest of you. His name is Jonathan and he just arrived here 3 weeks ago, and living with his aunt. Your fourteen year old romantic heart is smitten by the sea-green laughing eyes, longish curly hair and olive skin. It was whispered that he is half Oriental. He is your age, but with a charisma that magnetises girls both older and younger. They are drawn to him, but fear to have anything to do with this half-alien creature, yet longing secretly to be in his company.

Jack dared you to go sit alone in the graveyard until midnight, and proved your theory true. Bolstered by Jonathan's sudden interest in the conversation (and perhaps, in you, you think) you said, alright, I'll do it. As the party walked near the path that leads to the graveyard, you broke away from the group and ran into the graveyard. Just as suddenly, you regretted the bravado, but it was too late to turn back now, or you might never hear the end of it from the boys. And you do not want to be embarassed in front of Jonathan. As the party walked away, Jack called back and said he will come by with another boy and retrieve you at close to midnight.


It felt like hours, sitting among those who do not sppeak, with nothing to entertain you other than reading the names on the headstones. And tonight, that activity holds no interest for you. You just want the hour to pass so you can go home, and be celebrated as some sort of heroine. You wonder what would grandmother think, and then remember that grandmother has gone to visit a cousin, and only old Annie, the servant is in. Annie doesn't care what you get up to as long as you do not get yourself and her into trouble.

Thank goodness your grandmother made you wear that thick dress, because your cashmere jacket would not otherwise protect you. The night is settling into silence, when you hear a low whistle. You think it is coming from your left side, but you are not sure. It comes short, long, short and finally a long low cry. You are frozen like that little cupid sitting above the headstone you are leaning against. The whistle stops, but you hear a low rustling noise. Your heart nearly stops beating, and then, a crunching noise. That sound becomes more and more consistent. A short silence, and the crunching resumes. You become very curious. Turning in that direction, you call out, voice slightly shaking, "Who's there?" The crunching noise stops. You see a tall figure in dark cape and hat. And the figure is not standing still, but seems to be moving unnaturally fast towards you. As it came nearer, if fear had kept you rooted to the ground, it now gives you the adrenaline rush. You break free and ran for your life. You run and run and run, not daring to turn back. Suddenly, you see a figure standing in front of you, and you nearly screamed until you see who it is.

"Are you ok?" asks Jonathan as he holds the shaking you. You nod.

"I was a little worried about you being all alone, out here, so I came back out again after the rest had gone back. You look like you have seen a ghost..."

He glances at you and asks no more questions. Holding your hand, he leads you away. Initially, you are shivering from the tingling sensation of his holding your hand, that he has come back for you, your heart beating from excitement and leftover fear. But excitement soon gives way to a knotty feeling inside, as you find the hand holding you becoming colder, and fingernails sharper...

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So, could this potentially be an advertisement, a short story, an excerpt from a novel, or a scene from a B-grade period, thriller movie script? :D