Free Ravens Deep (one) by Jane Jordan Page A

buried in hallowed ground, due to local superstitions of the time. I thought that it certainly would be an interesting piece of research to do as I finished looking at the graves closest to the church. 
                  A little distance away from the main graveyard, four raised sarcophaguses were partly hidden under an old gnarled oak tree that overhung the stone wall. As I approached, I saw that one had more ornate carvings than the others, depicting vines and hunting scenes. I moved closer. Over the years the elements had decayed and weathered their stone surfaces and the moss and lichen had grown profusely over them, making it difficult to define the engravings. I walked slowly around each one, wondering who these long forgotten people were.  Maybe wealthy landowners of their time, since their remains lay preserved in more ornate tombs. I studied the one closest to me and my eyes moved downwards.
                  My breathing became momentarily suspended as I stared in shock at the sight before me.  Despite this beautiful warm summer’s day, a cold chill came over me and I was aware of the tiny hairs on my arms and neck standing on end.
                  A small bunch of honeysuckle and wild rose had been laid on the lowest plinth of the tomb.  The flowers were neatly tied with a piece of grass and their petals had begun to wilt, as they had been there for a few hours. It was not the fact that somebody else had visited this graveyard recently, or left flowers on this particular tomb, but what totally caught me off guard and chilled me to the bone was the delicate carved lettering at the base.
                  Madeline Shaw 1818 - 1860. May She Finally Rest In Peace.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Six - Supernatural Discernment
     
                  Seeing my name carved out in stone was troubling to my mind.  Although it was
    conceivable that elsewhere in the world there were various tombs with that very name.
                  Why shouldn’t there be? My name is not that unique. But why here, was it coincidence, or something else?
                  I stayed beside that tomb for a while, a morbid curiosity taking over my senses. 
                  Who had she been, and why are there flowers on her tomb, when every other grave is bare?
                  I consoled myself with the thought that I had made this journey, it wasn’t as though I had been lured to this churchyard.  Only I had power over my own destiny, no-one else was involved, this was just the strangest of coincidences. I felt calmed by that knowledge.
                  After that the rest of the afternoon at the graveyard passed quickly. It was getting late when I looked at my watch and thought about the journey back to Ravens Deep. I closed the old iron gate behind me and looked at the path I had used earlier. It really did seem to end at the church, as beyond that the stinging nettles were waist high and I had no intention of wading through them to find out if the path continued again.  Instead, I retraced my footsteps back the way I had come and wondered if I would make it back before nightfall.
                  It did in fact take considerably more time to walk back to Ravens Deep than I had
    anticipated . The woodlands had grown cooler and the dappled light through the tree-top
    canopy was growing steadily darker.  I had to stop to catch my breath several times, although I was used to walking in the city and its parks, I was definitely not used to uphill country hiking. The sun was just setting as the woodlands began to thin out and over the hedgerows in the distance, the stone chimneys of Ravens Deep came into view. I breathed a sigh of relief, I did not want to be in dark unfamiliar woods as night fell.
                  Within minutes the sun had disappeared, allowing my surroundings to take on a soft diffused glow. As I