| |
"Went
away," is what the adults say. Like she ran away or something.
But I know better. Now.
It sounded like such a cool and
creepy story when she told me, like one of those Goosebumps®
books she'd gotten me into. I was sure she was making it all
up to scare me. She said she couldn't sleep since that day,
kept having nightmares about Granny in a garden talking over
her shoulder to some huge, shadowy creature.
God, she looked so hurt when I
said she was making it all up, teasing me. For a long moment,
she just looked at me. Something in her eyes just seemed to
close in on itself. And she was quiet. Quiet and distant after
that moment and nothing I said seemed to reach her. I tried
apologizing, but it was like she'd sealed herself away somewhere
and no one could reach her.
Her Mom even called me over a
few days later when Dani had gone out for a walk. She'd taken
up going for long walks, all alone. She wouldn't return anyone's
calls. Her Mom was worried something was going on, and she wondered
if Dani had told me anything. What could I say? If I told her
what Dani had told me, she wouldn't have believed it either.
And Dani probably would've gotten in trouble for teasing old
Granny. I figured Dani would never speak to me again if I told
her Mom. Now I wish I had.
Finally, it was getting dark outside.
I told Dani's Mom I had to get home.
The wind was building, bringing
night on fast. I took the shortcut by the cemetery gates. I
saw old Granny standing there, staring off into the woods, the
wind whipping her hair like billows of dust. And she was singing
out, loud, her arms stretched wide, but the wind stole her words
before I could hear them. For a moment I thought I saw something
swoop past her in the darkness. I blinked and it was gone.
I never saw Dani again.
The police said she'd run away,
what with the way she'd been acting. I wanted to tell them about
old Granny in the cemetery. I wanted to tell them how she'd
scared Dani something fierce. But what could I really say? That
I'd seen the crazy, old hag singing in a windstorm?
Carrie's eyes darted to the window,
her pen frozen for a moment as a gust of wind slammed against
the rattling panes. She swallowed hard before moving the curtain
to look out into the night. The tree outside swung wildly in the
wind whipping about its branches. The street was empty. With a
steadying breath, she began writing again.
Two
nights after that, I had the strangest dream. I was walking
home from school with a group of friends when, suddenly, I heard
this shriek like some pre-historic creature rip though the air.
I spun around to find the cemetery behind me. The sky turned
starless midnight. I turned back to my friends, but they were
gone. The wind screamed up around me, carrying that broken,
tuneless voice, chanting.
I willed my feet to move, but
the wind tore at me, holding me fast, like giant arms tight
about me. I could barely breathe.
The world around me seemed to
fall away. I felt like I was being dragged backward in an invisible
tide. Closer came the singsong voice, until I could feel the
warmth of her sickly sweet breath batting at the back of my
neck. Then, silence.
Time ticked wordlessly. Breathing
stopped. Held. Waited. Until my feet turned me slowly around.
Granny Tombstone stood before
me, her grin wide and gaping, her face barely a foot away. She
had something in her hands. I tried to speak as she lifted her
arms slowly, like through deep water. The air wavered about
her.
A whisper of sound from her cracking
lips. "Posies," she breathed, slamming the world into fast forward
as hundreds of flowers exploded in my face.
I sat bolt up in bed. The clock
was glowing 12:15. The wind was sighing, like someone crying
far away.
It took several hours of mind-numbing
reruns and infomercials to get back to sleep.
The next morning I woke up thinking
of Dani, the dream; that image of Granny in the middle of the
windstorm the night she disappeared playing the whole time in
my mind. Suddenly I knew she was behind it all. I didn't know
how, but I swore I'd find out. And make her pay.
For
a moment, Carrie stopped again, letting the last few days run
through her mind, pushing off the stubborn shudder that ached
to run through her. Outside, the wind howled low, like an animal
ready to hunt. The lights dimmed for a second. Ignoring everything
else, Carrie returned to her story.
Since that morning, I've been
following Granny. I've even skipped school the last two days.
Fortunately Mom's been working late, so I've been able to intercept
the calls. I guess maybe none of that was too bright. Maybe
I should have told her, but even if she had believed me, she
would've said to leave it to the police or something. Probably
she would've given me some lecture about grief and denial and
lying about others like the counselor at school.
Dani was my best friend. I had
to do something. Nothing could keep me from the truth.
For about a week, I'd stop by
the cemetery at different times of the day, and even some nights
when Mom wasn't around. I'd caught Granny sneaking in and out
of the woods. Sometimes covered in mud. A couple of times I
tried to follow her when she went in, but she seemed to disappear.
Somehow I had to get to her, get
her to reveal something to me. So I decided to push her, like
they do in those TV shows. I started leaving notes for her on
the dead bush by the old crypt she always ducked around on her
way into the woods. I knew she couldn't possibly miss them.
They said things like, "Someone's
watching you." "I'm getting close." "I know what you're doing."
From my perch way up in the elm with Kenny's binoculars, she
looked pretty upset to me.
This evening's was the clincher.
"The truth is out." That one really shook her. She began pacing
and babbling towards the crypt. Man, I wish I could've heard
what she was saying. But it didn't matter that much to me then.
All that mattered was I had her running scared, and I wasn't
going to let her go now.
I watched as Granny began digging
with her hands at a stone just to the side of the door. She
kept looking around her, like she was committing a crime or
something. Carefully, I snuck down the far side of the tree,
took a shortcut I'd discovered by following her to the other
side of the Crypt.
Next
Page> Picking Posies 3
Picking Posies © 2004 Anne E. Tremblay
Illustrations ©
2004 Pam Marin-Kingsley
|
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
 |
