We live here. When I was a child, I grew up with my grandparents. I eat at my parents' house every day, and then go to my grandparents' house to sleep. These two cemeteries in front of my house are my only way every day. Summer is fine, but it's not terrible to pass by at dawn. It's dark in early winter, and I have to pass by these two big cemeteries alone every night, but I've been courageous since I was a child and I'm used to it.
When I was about eight or nine years old, it was a winter and it was already dark. As usual, I went to my grandparents' home after dinner. When I passed by these two cemeteries, I was startled when I heard something moving inside. I was young and brave, and I stopped to explore one or two things. I heard someone talking in the cemetery, but I didn't see anyone. I want to have a closer look.
I was afraid to go any further at once, and my legs and feet were weak. I ran to my grandfather's house and told him about it. My grandfather didn't believe me at that time, so I asked him to accompany me to see it. My grandfather couldn't stand me and went out with me. When passing by the cemetery, he heard the voice of swearing again.
Grandpa was shocked, too, but when he listened carefully, he felt his voice was a little familiar. The closer he gets, the more carefully he listens. Grandpa recognized the voice of an uncle in our family. As soon as he leaned over, it turned out that the uncle was drunk and lying in front of someone's grave. When he heard the noise of passers-by, he swore and frightened them. Grandpa also felt distressed, but his uncle sent him home.