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PICKING POSIES
By
Anne E. Tremblay

      Carrie checked the lock on her window, then dove beneath the thick covers of her bed. Shivering, she flicked on her bedside lamp and pulled the heavy blankets up tight under her chin. Hour-long minutes passed as she tried to get her eyes to close. At last, with a sigh, she scrunched up into a sitting position, pulled paper from the little drawer in her bedside table and began to write.

      Momma always said the best place to be on a cold, windy night is safe, in a warm bed. I'm sure glad I'm in mine tonight. The wind is howling like a banshee and but an hour ago, I wasn't sure I'd ever see my little house again, never mind be safe and warm.
      Maybe I should start at the beginning.
      There's this old lady. No one seems to know her name, so we call her Granny Tombstone. She hangs out in the cemetery picking wildflowers and singing off key to herself, real quiet like. Nobody knows what she's singing. I don't think anyone's ever gotten close enough to find out.
      Most people just leave her alone. Adults cluck their tongues and "tsk" a lot when they see her. Momma always calls her "poor old thing." That's cause she wanders around in these ratty old clothes that look like they're from the Victorian age or something. She wears these white blouses with high necked, lacy collars, ruffled fronts, long sleeves, with long, heavy black skirts, even in the summer. And boots. She wears these tired looking brown lace-up jobs that should've fallen apart decades ago.
      Every so often you can find her with mud to her elbows, her upswept hair falling in straggly clumps she doesn't seem to notice. It's like she's some escapee from an old picture book that didn't make the trip too well.
      Dani said Old Granny Tombstone actually looked at her once when she was up in the gnarled old elm that reaches over the far wall of the cemetery. They'd been up there a while and gotten bored when Granny happened by. Dani said someone whistled at her and she spun around, babbling to herself. Then another kid called out to her from a different part of the tree. Whoosh, she turned again, looking wildly about her.
      That's when they all started getting in on it. They figured she couldn't see them and was too daft to find them. So they started jeering and teasing her and throwing small twigs and stuff at her.
      Suddenly she stopped and stood perfectly still. Dani said it was hard to tell if she was still breathing. It was like she froze in place, one hand over her eyes, peering towards one of the crumbling vaults at the other end of the cemetery. It spooked them and they started scrambling down to the safe side of the wall.
      Dani was highest in the tree and had to wait until the others cleared a place for her to jump down to. She kept an eye on Granny Tombstone, who just stood. And stood.
      Just as Dani was ready to climb down herself, she saw Granny turn slowly. This time, Dani froze in place. Granny trained her cloudy blues eyes, one floating with a mind of it's own, on the very place Dani perched, ready to jump. Granny raised a stiff, crooked finger at her, her lips moving all the while. Then a grim little smile crossed her haggard features and she spoke, soft and clear. Dani said she heard it plain as if she'd stood beside her, whispering in her ear. "Pretty ones should be as they seem."
      I didn't have the slightest clue what that meant. I still don't. All I know is none of the other kids heard it. Just Dani. And it shook her up something fierce. After that, she changed. Became quiet and tense all the time. She spent most of her time alone, off by herself, even in school.
      Jeeze. It's still hard talking about her. She was my best friend. We did everything together. Heck! I would've been with her that day if Momma hadn't dragged me to Aunt Katie's at the last minute. I should have been with her. It still hurts so much. She was my best friend. I've missed her so much since she's disappeared.

     "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.

     It was getting darker. The wind was picking up, but I could hear her worried voice. "Oh Perry, Perry," she babbled over and over. "Gotta save Perry."
     I didn't know who she was talking about and I didn't care. If this Perry had anything to do with Dani, I'd make sure he paid too.
     Then she was moving, fast into the woods. She ran, stumbling heedless of roots and rocks, all the while her voice building with that one name. Perry.
     I paced her carefully, keeping behind trees, but she was so wrapped up in finding this Perry guy, I don't think she would've noticed if I'd been on her heels. On and on she ran until she reached this clearing far in the depths of the woods. All the brush had been cleared. In the center of the trees, the ground had been turned over, packed down. What was this place?
     Just then, she stopped. Like she'd hit an invisible wall. I almost fell into a pricker bush trying to duck out of sight. She crumbled to a sitting position, rocking slowly, and humming, eyes closed.
     I crept closer. It was like she was in some kind of trance or something.
     The moon rose with clouds threatening. I knew I should have gotten out then, run and gone for help. But she was just rocking, singing.
     A few steps closer. Her voice reached me, growing as I closed in. A little girl's fractured melody. "Posies, posies."
     Two more steps. Something just beyond her caught my eye. It moved, slowly, stiffly. Another step. I stared past Granny, trying to figure out what it was. Something about the movement looked oddly familiar. A small bird maybe?
     "Picking posies for Peregrine."
     And suddenly I knew what it was. No animal. Clawing for life itself, a small white hand rose like some strange flower from the loose earth. I stifled a scream, but lost my footing, snapping a twig in two.
     Granny's eyes popped open. Met mine. For a moment we both froze. "Perry," she whispered. "Perry," she called, voice rising, and I was running. "Perry. Peregrine. Peregrine, come. Now!"
     Her screams fell behind me as I tore through the woods. Branches lashed out for me, tore at my clothes, whipped at my face. I kept running.
     A cry like I'd never heard except in my dreams tore through the air. I could hear the wind rise up like a physical thing behind me, but I just kept running. Nothing could make me turn around or stop. I had to get home. I had to get Momma. She'd know what to do, how to help.
     If I can just get home, I thought, tears blurring my vision. My lungs burned, my legs trembled, but I wouldn't let my feet stop for all the world. What on earth had I just seen?
     I fumbled with my key in the lock. The wind sounded like a train bearing down on me. It lashed my back. The key clicked. In one move, I was in, the door slammed shut behind me.
     Silence filled the house. I called for Momma, but remembered she was working late. I locked all the doors and windows. "Please come home soon, Momma," I whispered.

         Carrie glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

     I wish I had told her what I'd been up to. I wish I'd gotten help or something. At least I'm safe now. And she'll be home any moment. Then I can tell her everythi...

     The windows shook violently. The wind bellowed like a beast unleashed as the very walls around her seemed to shudder. Carrie screamed.
     "Carrie? Are you okay? I heard you screa..." Her mother's eyes fell on the empty bed, jumped to the open window as a final flash of something white, like paper, slipped away into the dark with the dying wind.

 

—The END—

Picking Posies © 2004 Anne E. Tremblay