O Death, Where Is Thy Sting?
Moonlight streaming through stained glass awakens me in the empty church. The dregs of sacramental wine slosh around my insides. With a heave, I lurch to my feet and stagger around the tomb-like place.
“Hello? Where’s everyone gone off to?”
My voice pings around the space and chases me into humid night air. Footsteps ring on cobbles as I hurry through the marketplace. Twice, I feel eyes rake over me and stop to look back, certain I am being shadowed.
No one is there.
I finger the deed to Read’s land. My land. Still in my vest pocket. He didn’t manage to win it back. A positive outcome of the wine-stained game is that I won even more, another swath of Read’s dwindling acreage.
With another glance at the red moon, I head through the low trees to view my new property. Seeing it lit by the stars will make it real. Only, I step into a void and land hard on my side in the mud. I hear a rhythmic picking at the dirt, and a darkened face looms over me.
“Oh, it’s you. Help me out of this ditch, man.”
I catch of whiff of his fermented breath as he pulls me to stand in a shallow hole in the ground. I take in the symmetrical sides of the impression, and my throat starts to close. “What is the meaning of this?”
“You shoulda taken da root.” I hear the voodoo stained words of the black man whisper out of the darkness behind me, right before a shovel silences me for all time.
“Dust thou art, and to dust shalt thou return.” The Vicar reaches into a grave to remove the land deed and pockets it, before waving the sign of the cross over three fresh graves, patting the gravedigger on the shoulder and wandering into the mist of night.
A Charleston series. The first post in the series is here, the second post is here, the third post is here, the fourth post is here, the fifth post is here, the sixth post is here, the seventh post is here, the eighth post is here, the ninth post is here, the tenth post is here, the eleventh post is here and the twelfth post is here. Thank you for reading.
Darn! And I already used my “Gravedigger” song by Dave Matthews a week or so ago.
Good twist on the ending. A very Southern Gothic tale dear, and I love it.
Name name him Gaillard and let them build an auditorium on his head!
Did you know the vicar of the little church that faces the “Gaillard Graveyard” (that’s what the archeologists are calling it) is in jail? That church was not there in 1720, but it was a fun little fiction about how they ended up with their land.
Yikes! An unexpected ending, for me. Great story!
Thanks, Kim. I got stuck in the middle, but the characters worked everything out eventually.
Oh shit, and I believe the Vicar is himself poisoned by the gravedigger.
He may be carrying a bad root on him somewhere. We shall see.
Well, the vicar was who I imagined it would be. Just shows how our perception of things and our life experiences lead us. Well done. Well done I say.
Only so many devices exist for a murder story, but they’re fun to write.
Ah, Lou’s vision — ” . . . Vicar in the drawing room with the candlestick” — was at least partially prophetic.
At the time, the killer wasn’t the Vicar. Maybe his vision impacted what the characters did.
I gots da root…
You are one of the smartest people I know, O Grand Poobah of Rotary.
OOoooo! You got me there at the end, Andra. I really enjoyed this and think I’ll go back and read it now in its entirety. Well done!
I’m glad you enjoyed it, Penny. It’s a bit dark, but I guess that’s what my characters like…….
Good twist! A bit of the old surprise a la Garrison Keillor when he puts the final spin on his tales, though his are not nearly as gruesome. When I was little, and heard stories like this I was scared for days. Almost gets me there with this one…
Cheryl, I don’t know where this stuff comes from. I am not naturally a dark person, but my writing is consistently dark. Of course, writing a series about a bunch of bodies dug up 300 years later would have to be dark.
Yes, I think you’re right!
Great twist, Andra.
Thanks, Nancy. This has been fun to write, in a weird way.
Like an Olympic gymnast you nailed the ending…or something mixed metaphoric
Great use of setting…more please
I went around and took some more pictures today, since people are loving this Charleston stuff so much.
awesome! i hope we come there this summer
Last I read the body count was up to 37…… I think there may yet be more to tell.
They are being very thorough and respectful through the whole process, Karen.
Very chilling start to my Sunday. I shall take care to avoid all people carrying spades.
At least today, you should, Roger.
Hmmm. Beware of people who hide their real motives behind a liberal sprinking of Bible verses! I usually know that…but this took me by surprise!
This was a great twist!
Just like in the Bible, the most pious people tended to be the worst.
Oh, good gracious. An electric post from beginning to end, Andra! Amazing ending. Bit chilling, but amazing.
I loved the Vicar from beginning to end. I still do.
Tah dah! Excellent
I’m catching up on a lot of posts, and this was great