Cemetery Stroll

(Yes, this is Flash Fiction Friday. Yes, this is posted on a Sunday. I had some technical difficulties this week. But, better late than never: here is part two of five in my paranormal October Flash Fiction series.)

[Ghosts of Tapioca Falls, Part Two]

Sally McSilver power-walked the same four-mile loop she did every morning at 6:16am. A babysitter and blogger, she cherished this part of her routine—a peaceful constant in an otherwise hectic life. The loop started in her quiet neighborhood, continued through the Falls trail, cut through Tapioca Falls Cemetery, continued into downtown, and turned back to her home.

Nothing in her life rivaled the serenity of these mornings, but today was different. The neighbors didn’t wave at her, didn’t say hi. Didn’t acknowledge her in any way. Cars didn’t stop when she had to cross the street. Plus the breeze was chillier than normal.

I should’ve worn my warmer jacket, Sally thought.

Normally, her strolls were filled with joy and wonder. She loved looking at the nature around Tapioca Falls and appreciating its beauty. But today everything seemed colder. The street was harder. The trail dustier. The mist from the waterfall icier.

What’s going on? she wondered. What’s different?

As she continued walking, light foot falls matched hers from behind. She looked over her shoulder, but there was nobody behind her. But the footsteps persisted…

Sally accelerated her pace, and the footsteps behind her sped up to match. Sally broke into a jog, again looking behind her to see who followed her. Again, she could see no one.

More people were walking in her direction away from the cemetery entrance. She recognized them as the Smith family along with Mr. Jenkins, the oldest, friendliest man in Tapioca Falls, a sort of pseudo-grandfather to the town.

“Hey!” Sally called, but none of them seemed to hear her. She broke into a sprint, full speed. They can’t ignore me if I tackle one of ‘em! Sally thought. “It’s me! It’s Sally! I need help, I’m being chased, I’m—”

Instead of crashing into Mr. Smith, she ran right through him, as if he were a cloud. Unless she was the cloud. She looked back at the walkers, and they were talking, again as if she wasn’t there.

“It’s a shame what happened to her,” Mrs. Smith said to Mr. Jenkins. “I still can’t believe it. She was so young.”

“They’re all so young,” old man Jenkins said, voice trembling. “I’ve never seen Tapioca Falls experience so much death in such a short time. Never so many tragedies in all my years. First it was that Saunderson kid. The fry cook, the hairdresser, all of ‘em. And now Hoss McSilver’s daughter? I can’t begin to imagine what that family’s going through…”

An invisible knife jabbed Sally’s heart. Hoss McSilver? Her father’s daughter… She thought of her sweet older sister Miranda. She can’t be dead. I would’ve heard.

Sally dashed into the graveyard. She ran among the headstones, past the rich families’ mini-crypts. Don’t panic, Sally, don’t panic. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening… She stopped, not breathing.

At the top of the hill stood her sister with Sally’s best friend, Samantha McEnnis. Good, she’s safe.

“Sam! Miranda!” They didn’t turn. She jogged towards them. “Mira! Sam! What’s going on?”

Sally slowed down her approach when she saw their tears. Samantha and Miranda never spent time together. Yet here they were, in the morning, in the middle of a usually-empty cemetery. In the back of her mind, Sally noted that she didn’t usually run into this many people during her morning walks. She also noted that Sam and Mira stood in front of a fresh grave.

Sally tried tapping them on their shoulders, hoping to get their attention, longing to comfort their tears. Her hands went right through them, again like she was an invisible cloud. She looked at the headstone.

SALLY McSILVER
8/1/1992 ~ 10/13/2018
Beloved
Daughter + Sister + Friend
Rest in Peace

Sally screamed. Again, her sister and friend didn’t flinch. Sally sprinted. Back on her loop, back towards home. This peaceful walking path, this source of serenity, now terror, was where she always prayed, thought through her problems, meditated on life, felt the freest, where she felt closest to God. I can’t be dead, I can’t be dead…

The path was a blur beneath her tears, but she continued, alternating walking and jogging. She no longer saw the pedestrians, no longer tried getting their attention.

“God, why? God, why? Jesus, I’m not in heaven, and I’m scared!”

She found her way back to her house, and instead of the place she remembered waking up at, she saw the house surrounded in caution tape.

“It’s true. I’m dead, and my home in a crime scene.”

“You’re not home,” said a kid’s voice behind her.

Sally spun. “Who are you?” But as she said it and the kid came into view, she recognized him. “Timmy Saunderson? But, you’re dead.”

“So are you, Sally. But this isn’t your home. You know where home is.” He smiled.

“What’s going on? When can I go there?”

“You’ll go soon. Trust me. We are dead, but we’re not done with the living. A dangerous evil seeks to control Tapioca Falls. This evil is responsible for both my death and yours. I’ve been assigned to send the restless ones back to sleep.”

“The restless ones?”

“Yes, Sally. The deadly ghosts, confused at their awakening. They’re lethal, and they’re all apart of its plan. Her plan. My task is to send them to slumber the moment they wake.”

“Am I a restless one, Timmy?”

“No. You’re a sent one. We need to work together. While I do my job, you need to do yours.”

“What’s my task, then?”

“While I fight evil in the realm of the dead, you will assist the realm of the living. Go to Detective Greg Auburn. He needs to be the one to take her down. He needs to find the evidence and solve our murders. If he doesn’t succeed, more restless ones will appear, and she will take Tapioca Falls by force.”

“Timmy, who is this ‘she’?”

“I’m not sure yet, but you need to help Detective Auburn figure it out. Otherwise, Tapioca Falls will fall to a darkness it cannot come back from. Do you understand?”

“Yes. No. I need to think about this. I need to pray.”

“I understand, Sally. Do what you must.”

Sally McSilver power-walked the same four-mile loop she did every morning at 6:16am…

[…TO BE CONTINUED]