Daisies in the Mists

Here you go Hannah. Your short story as requested. Its very morbid but has a slightly happy ending. What was funny was that I couldn't think of a good plot until I turned off all the lights in my room and lit a few earie candles for effect. And then there is the fact that a heavy blanket of mist has been over my house all day. Creepy! Anyway, I went through a lot of trouble so enjoy. :D

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Daisies in the Mists

There is a cemetery. A cemetery that I pass everyday on my way to work. And no matter what time of day it is, no matter what the weather is like, no matter what the season may be, there is a constant mist over this cemetery that I pass everyday on my way to work. On warm summer days passing into the sudden mist is chilling and cool and inviting, but on rainy winter days the mist is cloying, trapping, disorientating and strange. It was on one such early winter day that it happened.

We were driving to go somewhere. In retrospect I can’t even remember where but it doesn’t seem that important anymore. As we drove down the winding road, we neared the spot and I casually turned to Kyle who was driving and remarked on the perpetual mist that always covered the cemetery. A snort came from Julie in the back at the preposterous notion but René who was sitting next to her griped their seat and asked in a slightly excited voice.

“Do you think it’s haunted? That would be so scary! Oh my gosh we have to stop and go look!”

“Please, we are not stopping to go into some muddy cemetery just because it’s foggy!” said Julie irritably.

“Don’t insult the cemetery. You might make whoever is haunting it mad.” I said sarcastically.

René who didn’t understand sarcasm turned on the laughing Kyle, “He’s right! You shouldn’t laugh!”

“René, Jack was being sarcastic. He doesn’t really care about a stupid cemetery.” Kyle said still laughing.

And then it happened. The engine died suddenly just as we neared the entrance to the cemetery. It was a small one lane road and we were afraid that a car might not see us in the mists so Kyle and I got out and pushed the car into the only place out of the way, the entrance to the cemetery. The girls got out and stood by while Kyle began to look under the hood.

“Looks like it overheated somehow.” Kyle said pulling on tubes and opening valves. “Guess we just have to wait until we can drive.”

“Alright, well it looks like you got your wish.” Julie said with a nod at René.

“Um, on second though, why don’t we just stay by the car.” René said nervously.

“Hey guys! Come look at this.” I called from a few yards away.

I had found a relatively new tombstone with fresh dirt on it. We all gathered round and read the inscription above the moldy rotten flowers. It was dated just a few days before and read:

Here lies Lee Rogerson
Died tragically
in sugar bowl accident

There were a few snickers from Julie and Kyle but René seemed genuinely sad at the poor man’s fate. She walked to the next one and began to tear up. Julie came and stood next to her, her voice low as she read:

“Darold Rogerson
3 years old
Drowned”

“Come on lets go back to the car.” Kyle said, seeing the effect that the tombstone writing was having on René and Julie.

“Wait. You know what we use to do when I was a kid.” I said trying to get her mind off the tombstone, “We use to go looking for the oldest tombstone in the cemetery whenever we went to place flowers on my grandfather’s grave.”

“That sounds like fun.” Kyle said beginning to scan tombstones as he walked along the avenues of the dead.

“Here’s a 1947 one!” called Julie stooped over one.

“I found a 1922 and a 1924! Awe, they died two years apart. And they each have a heart on their tombstone. That’s so cute.” René said looking at two rose colored ones.

“Um… guys.” came Kyle’s call from far off in the mists. “I think I win. I found three 1890s ones.”

We all went searching for Kyle in the mists. I stumbled along one of the white paths when I heard the scream. It sounded like Julie. Kyle, René, and I called out as we ran through the mists until we finally came to large leafless oak tree with a small black tombstone in the cool grey mists. Julie was sitting beneath the tree staring in horror at the tombstone.

René ran and held her shaking form while I tried talking to her and find out what was wrong. Then Kyle read in a shaky voice the inscription on the stone.

Here lies Julie Taylor
Who got lost in the mists
And was never seen again

“I told you! I told you we shouldn’t have come here!” Said Julie shaking.

“Its alright. Here, lets go back to the car. It should be all better by now.” Kyle said giving her his arm to lean on.

We walked back through the silver mist. The white wall seemed to be endless and soon the path we were on came to a solid wall of the cemetery. We turned around and walked back the other way but the oak and the tombstone wasn’t there. That’s when we realized we were lost.

“Oh my gosh! This is the same wall!” Cried Julie as she ran up to it, “How did we get turned around?! There were no other paths or anything!?!”

“Maybe it’s the mists.” Came René’s reply, tired and slow, “Maybe it wants to show us something.”

“René, get back here! Don’t wander off the path! You’ll get lost!” I called.

“We’re already lost.” Julie said obtusely.

We followed the wall and René who was leading us until we came to a different path, covered in moss. We walked along it until we came to a small gate that was rusted over. Inside there were three tombstones, large and ornate. The middle one said:

Jonathan Andrew Therris
Successful Businessman
Obedient Son
Caring Father
Husband
1834-1896

The next one was the smallest of the three and was clearly a child’s. It seemed older than the other two and had been carved with much care and diligence.

James Andrew Therris
Beautiful boy
Light of his mothers life
Looked like his father
1869-1878

The last one was covered in an elaborate script that curved and wound all around like ivy. It had carvings of birds and vines all around it and at its apse it had a carving of a daisy missing one petal. It said:

My soul torn
My secret kept
Of smiles worn
And tears wept
Here lies all
Wrapped in stone
Reveal the small
Flower alone
Look to the east
Find me there
All he asked for
Was a lock of hair

We all looked at each other with fear. The mists seamed to be agitated and the wind sounded like a wailing howl. The date on the tombstone attested that she had died last of all. We didn’t know what to say or do, when Kyle saw it.

“Look, the tombstone of the boy. It has a small daisy carved on it too. Right here on the back at the upper right corner.”

We all gathered around and looked at the small carving. No one else but Kyle with his attention to detail would have seen it. Then rereading the poem again we checked the man’s tombstone. There was no flower anywhere.

“Well, what do you suppose we do now René?” Asked Julie still terrified.

“What the poem said. Lets look to the east.” She said matter-of-factly.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” I asked skeptically.

“The moss of course.” Kyle said motion towards the moss covered stones.

We plodded in the direction Kyle pointed to. Soon we were just barely able to make out the three tombstones we had come from. And then we reached it. It was the oak. The one with the black tombstone. Julie began to hyperventilate again but we steadied her as we drew near. The writing had changed. Now it said:

James Harrison
Humble Blacksmith
Never married
Died young

“That’s it?” asked Kyle skeptically getting closer to the stone.

“And the same daisy.” Said René as she pointed to the back.

We all turned and looked and saw the same daisy as before, but this time the petal was falling towards the base of the stone. Kyle knelt down and placed his hand on the ground. Then he suddenly brushed away the dirt to reveal a solid steel plate. It said:

Here lies my master
The blacksmith so true
Who fell in love with a woman
And then married her too
But her father was wealthy
And did not consent
The girl was given to another
The blacksmith’s lament
For when he tried to save her
And carry her away
They stopped him, they shot him
The price he did pay
His dying breath was strong
And he commanded me
Peace will come only when
I’ve given her a daisy

We all stood in shock and wander at this secret so fierce. The dates of his death was slightly before the birth of the boy and the daisy on his tombstone spoke volumes. And then we saw it. Here, where all the other flowers had decayed in days, was a single daisy lying on his cold grave, fresh as if it had just been picked. I picked it up and we ran back to the three stones. Quietly and reverently I placed it upon the grave of the woman.

The next instant we heard a gravelly voice behind us, “Hey, is that you kid’s blue car in the drive way?”

We turned to see an old man with white hair and a cabby cap on his head walk out of the mists. He was thin and bent over walking with a cane and carrying a shovel over his shoulder.

“Um. Yes our car overheated and we needed to let it cool down.” Kyle said dreamily.

“We got lost in the mists.” Said René with a puzzled look on her face.

“Oh, well that’s a good thing I found ya then! Wouldn’t want you getting lost here now would we?” He asked in a sinister voice.

As he had been speaking the mists began to pull away slowly and the sun shown down on the green grass. Small dandelions that had been closed opened their golden heads and he looked around astonished. We saw that this whole time we had been only a few feet away from the entrance and our car.

“Well now, you young uns better be getting off. You’ve done enough damage for one day.” he scowled.

And so we got back in the car and drove off. Kyle and René seemed to be happy and chipper like nothing happened and the more and more we talked the more it became apparent that they didn’t remember anything. I exchanged a look with Julie and we both caught our breath as we suddenly passed by an old Blacksmith museum, the daisies all around it still in bloom even in the early winter.