This week, Charli’s flash fiction prompt has us looking at gravestones, literally:
‘October 21, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a final resting place. You can take any perspective that appeals to you from the historic to the horrific. Just don’t scare me too greatly. You can also choose to write about those buried before they came to their final rest. An extra challenge is to discover a story or character from a local cemetery. I double-dog dare you to join me with your own cemetery day!’
This prompt expands upon an important part of Charli’s research for her ‘Rock Creek‘ historical fiction work-in-progress gleaned from her visit last year to Fairbury Cemetery near Rock Creek Station in Nebraska.
I share Charli’s fascination with cemeteries, always wanting to know more about the stories lying behind the engravings. And since I’m up for a double-dog dare, I take up the challenge with glee and a spooky little mystery for you.
Some of you may remember my post about Stourhead (two years ago this month!) in which I posted some photographs of St Peter’s church and the cemetery ~
It’s a place I’ve visited many times, usually to walk around the beautiful lake and gardens, but on that day, I spent time wandering through the cemetery ~
I remember it as a day heavy with autumnal drizzle, which only added to the slightly eerie but peaceful setting ~
Not much information found on these ancient gravestones ~
No easy read here ~
I wandered one way, Hubby another, as I snapped away ~
A cemetery with a view ~
Intrigued by this cluster of stone crosses tucked away at the back of the cemetery, I climbed up a small incline to get a better view, but it wasn’t until later when I uploaded my photos to my laptop, that I noticed something odd about this shot ~
Can you see the ‘globe’ a couple of inches to the left of the cross at the front? At first, I thought it was a raindrop on my camera lens, but when I asked the question in my post, several readers thought it was too perfectly round, and begged the question, why wasn’t it on any of my other photos taken at exactly the same time?
Besides, by the time I took this photo, the rain had stopped.
My friend Pat and I struck up a conversation about it and wondered if it might be an orb. She suggested that I send the photo to our mutual friend Bev who writes about all things supernatural at her blog Ghost Talk. You can read what she said in her fascinating post about my ghostly orb, amongst others, here.
So what do you think? Raindrop or orb? To this day, I’ve never found any such mark on any photograph of mine, rain or shine. And so the mystery continues.
Thanks so much to all who tell me of your enjoyment of the adventures of Ethel and Fred, the Clueless Werewolf. I can’t let them go, not yet. Here’s the latest installment of my 99 word flash fiction using Charli’s prompt:
Ethel threw the nightdress in the fire and glared at Fred.
“If them coppers find out you stole that old bag’s clothes you’ll get it!”
“Sod her, ‘er old man almost shot me!
“It’s your fault for pawing at Mave,” Ethel hissed, pushing the newspaper across the table. “It don’t look good.”
Fred scanned the headlines. Local woman missing, broken gravestones over at St John’s, a ‘ghostly white figure’ seen by a group of ‘harmless kids’.
“But we only went there to look at the moon, for a lark was all…”
Ethel sighed. “Oh Fred, what ‘ave you done now?”