Vera’s eyes scanned slowly across the property until they fell upon an unexpected sight. She pointed and asked the real estate agent, “Is that part of the yard?”
Turning in the direction of Vera’s question, the agent smiled and replied, “Oh, the garden? Why yes, it is, although it sits right on the property’s edge.”
Vera squinted and gazed into the absurdly unkempt patch of vegetation. “It looks so neglected.”
“Well, the home has been unoccupied for several years and folks in town have just left it alone. It’s actually considered something of a local oddity,” the agent said. “The children say it’s haunted. Can you imagine; a haunted garden?” She giggled to herself and then sighed.
Vera’s husband, Lon, stepped to his wife’s side. He eyed the sprawling, overgrown garden with curiosity and, for an instant, he thought he heard whispers floating out of the wild green space. He blinked and shook it off.
“Hey, you okay?” Vera asked him.
“Yeah, I just thought…” Lon trailed off, his gaze again locked onto the garden, watching huge leaves of massive plants sway gently in the breeze. “…Nevermind, it’s nothing.”
Vera smiled and took his hand.
Pam, the leathery old real estate agent, smiled and said, “Let’s take a look inside. You just won’t believe the miracles that the restoration crew worked with this place.”
After a lengthy tour of the home, filled with all the questions that nervous first time home buyers ask, Vera and Lon found themselves outside again, gazing into the lush, wild garden.
“So, what do we think?” Pam, the real estate agent asked as she approached the couple from behind.
Without turning or taking their eyes off the garden, the couple said, “We’ll take it.”
One week later, after the house had begun to take on the appearance of being lived in, Vera was awakened late one starless night by a soft voice calling out her name, like a melody floating on the wind. It roused her out of sleep and drew her to the bedroom window. She looked out over the yard to the garden which was bathed in moonlight. As she stared, the plants swayed back and forth, dancing in the breeze. And again, her name drifted to her on the wind.
Vera’s forehead creased. It didn’t make sense. How could she hear anything through the closed window? How could she be hearing her name? Surely it must have been her imagination. Then, just as the thought had flitted through her mind, she heard her voice again, as if it was in her mind and all around her, everywhere at once. She looked deeper into the garden. A child’s pale face moved out from behind a bundle of wide, green leaves, and grinned up at her with young, girlish features that took on a maniacal glow.
Vera’s breath caught in her throat. She stumbled back to the bed and shook her husband. He rolled over, his eyes wide and alert. He was already awake, as if he’d been waiting for her.
“Lon, there’s someone in the garden!” She whispered, her tone shaky and laden with fear.
He smiled and replied, “Let’s go see.”
“No, I don’t think–”
“C’mon, honey, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s okay; it’s all okay.”
Vera’s eyes watered. Her hand trembled.
Lon stroked her hair and stared deep into Vera’s eyes. Her gaze locked onto his. She nodded slowly, taken in, mesmerized by whatever force had taken root inside of Lon.
“Yes, it is okay,” Vera said.
“That’s right,” Lon said. “They told me everything. They really want to meet you. I told them we would come visit.”
“Who?”
“Them.” Lon beamed. His face glowed in the pale light of the moon as he nodded in the direction of the garden.
Together they rose from the bed and, hand in hand they left the bedroom and made their way to the garden.
THREE MONTHS LATER
Pam smiled wide at the young couple.
“It’s a beautiful old house,” the young woman said. “What happened to the previous owners?”
Pam shrugged and replied, “No one really knows. They just up and disappeared one night.”
The young woman glanced around the yard, her roving gaze stopping at the garden. She laughed. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that before; it’s huge. That poor garden could use some love.”
“Sure could,” agreed the husband. “Who would let it get into such bad shape?”
“I’d love to spend some time there,” the young wife said. Her eyes widened. ” Maybe a lot of time.”
“Well, you surely could do that,” Pam said, smiling devilishly. “I bet those old plants would love the company.”
The wife grabbed onto her husband’s arm. “I love it here.”
“Me, too!” The husband said, still staring at the garden, feeling that it couldn’t be possible, but he could have sworn he heard the plants whispering his name.
Edited by Emerian Rich
Night’s Knights (#1)
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Curated by Daphne Strasert, Bloodthirsty (2020)
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Curated by Mark Orr, The Bloody Dead of Night (1945)
Keening Country
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