Christopher Reed wanted to start a new life in Leavenworth, away from people, hoping to escape the grief of losing his wife Janice in a terrible car accident.
The charming cottage he bought with the most alluring garden was perched on a plain near t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Her lifeless body was slumped through the windscreen, crimson red liquid splattered everywhere. Frantically he called out to her and pulled her body back into the car. Rain was pouring in from the broken windshield. Christopher could see dark red liquid oozing out of her wounds, her face unrecognizable.
When she fell backwards her neck rolled to the side. Her eyes were glazed over. Those empty, emotionless eyes, gazing endlessly into eternity, forever looking at nothing. Her once sparkling emerald eyes, lost.
Without warning her eyes flickered, turning her body to him. Her mouth agape, blood trickling out, an ear-piercing shriek came from her mouth. She clawed at him with broken bloody dirt-filled nails.
Startled awake, heart pounding, mind empty, his eyes took in every ray of light. "It's only a dream,” he whispered while clutching his throbbing head. Slumping back on his pillows, he saw a flower next to him. A royal purple, Zinnia.
"Florica, how are you getting into my house? Your house. Why don't you just come and face me?" Agitated, he wrapped himself in the duvet and turned away from the flower. Waves of nausea caused by the sudden movement added to his misery. His mouth was dry and sticky. With his brain still grappling to recuperate from last night's overindulgence, he felt dirt under his body. He had forgotten to clean the bed before he got in last night.
He dragged his heavy limbs out of bed and swung his feet to the ground, letting out a groan when he saw he still had his shoes on. Thinking that some pain killers would help heal a splitting headache, he swayed to the bathroom. Searching through the medicine cabinet, he found nothing. Instead, Christopher splashed water on his face to alleviate the pain.
He took a shower and hauled himself downstairs for a full English breakfast with eggs, bacon, sausages and toast. He cleaned the place as best as his tired body would allow, and left to buy supplies for that night's visit with the boys.
***
Christopher had an early dinner because he wanted to get some shut eye before his visitors showed up. He invited Robin to come over as well. She was reluctant about going, but agreed to be there at midnight.
He hadn't been sleeping well since he arrived in Leavenworth. It was seven o'clock when he went to bed, very happy with himself for changing the linen that morning. In less than a minute from his head hitting the pillow, his mind started swirling and dragged him into a tenebrous world of dreams.
His consciousness came and went, his tiredness not wanting to let him go. Just as he was about to fall into total oblivion, he heard his heavy bedroom door creak and groan as it opened. Struggling against his sleep, he tried to coerce his eyes open. He was covered in scarlet Black Knight Scabiosas. He could taste the damp soil in his mouth.
He panicked and staggered out of bed. When he hit the ground with a crash, he realized his hands and feet were bound with blood stained twine, cutting into his skin. Windows grew into solid wall. The room enclosed around him, boxing him in. He struggled against his constraints, bounding his hands and feet tighter together. He turned onto his stomach and wanted to flip to his hands and knees but his back hit against something pushing him to the floor.
He pushed up on his elbows and saw the brightest yellow light where his head used to be, blinding him. Scratched into the decayed wood beneath him, he saw the word 'MURDERED'. He twisted himself around and clawed at the wood above him, his nails bloody and dirt-filled.
The light disappeared and everything went black. Voices slowly and faintly seeped through the wooden box. He hit against the box with his bound hands, screaming for help. Laughter filtered through, louder this time. Not happy laughter but, snickering, mocking, daring… victorious! He recognized them, 'The Five Musketeers'.
He wanted to shout to get their attention, but his mouth was gagged. Gurgling sounds escaped his mouth. He couldn't breath, he was suffocating. Out of the blackness, eyes slowly formed above him. Dark pools turned emerald. Then aquamarine blue-green eyes. "Florica?"
His soul left his body, hovering above himself. The light started shining again, brighter and brighter. It wasn't his body. He saw a woman below him. Gagged and bound. Her white satin nightdress torn and covered in blood. Nose bleeding and her aquamarine blue-green eyes swollen, crying crimson tears. Florica! 'The Five Musketeers’ stood over her, each one having their turn with her. Grasping her by her long light brown hair, tangled and bloody, violating her. Beating her.
The light became feeble and he was back in his body. Feeling the pain in his body from these men's abuse. He felt sheer powerlessness and was drawn towards Florica. He went closer and she held out her hand to him. She took his hand and guided him down the stairs into the garden.
The garden was not charming anymore, every single flower wilted and smelling of rot. The moon showered the garden with its silvery beams, shadows of quivering beasts and monsters.
She took him to the centre of the garden where the once beautiful scarlet Black Knight Scabiosas had grown. Tears of blood dripped from the withered leaves. Mournful Widows, just like Florica.
He fell to his knees, the urge to dig out the pain that he felt building within him. Panic riddled him, his chest tightened and he went blank, digging at the dirt, gasping for air with each new spot he touched, his lungs unable to let air in. Horrors of what had happened started playing in front of him. Frantically, he continued digging.
Goosebumps raised on his skin when a breeze became determined to sweep leaves across the garden, turning them into a whirlwind. Then, as if someone had pressed stop, everything fell to the ground in a thud. Silence! There in front of him, the crown of a skull poked out above the soil.
"Christopher!" He heard a woman's concerned voice. He looked up in confusion from the shallow grave. He was in disarray, covered in dirt, white streaks down his cheeks evidence of his crying. Robin was looking down at him. But standing with her were Ben, Anthony, Michael, David and Roy. Behind them stood officers with flashlights.
***
He woke up to bright hospital lights, Robin staring down at him, smiling.
"Hey, you."
"Hey," he said faintly.
"So, it was Florica visiting you all this time. She tried to lead you to her grave."
"I figured," he said with a chuckle.
"You know, 'The Five Musketeers' confessed."
"They did?" he asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yeah. I had your house cleaned out again."
"Thank you."
"The doctor said he wants to keep you another night for observation. I'll pick you up in the morning and take you home."
***
Christopher stood watching the garden, which was now in full splendour, butterflies flitting all over. The same cottonball rabbit was bobbing around in the flowers as if it was playing hide and seek. This time he was not alone. He had brought his entire family.
In the middle of the garden, he saw her picking flowers. With scarlet Black Knight Scabiosas in her hand, she twirled and smelled them. Unlike the flower, she was no longer the 'Mournful Widow'. She smiled at him and waved, disappearing off into the sunset.
Flowers has always been sunshine, food and medicine to her soul.
The end
***
I would like to thank 2 of my friends @Harley_Quinn_18 for my beautiful cover and teaser and @insomnolence for editing my story. Thank you guys, I really appreciate your help. ღ ღ ღ
