Wind howled, ripping through trees, swinging the lone swing, in the playground by the cemetery. There was a girl, about 8 years old. she was pale, with jet black hair and a dark red ribbon. She had dark rings around her eyes, and a hard glare, staring at the swing.
She took a step towards it, but seemed to recoil back into the cemetery. she seemed to want to go to the abandoned swing, but why was she attached to the cemetery. was she... dead. no, that wasn't possible, she's much to young. although. she might be.
she took three steps back, and then ran straight for the swing, when she got to the edge of the cemetery it was as though she was blocked. she couldn't get to the swing. why did she want to go to the swing. because I needed to play.