Raining Mud

Chapter 1 - Depth

"You have heard the stories Mr Brant, haven't you?" queried the butler, Magnus, with hesitation. His eyes showed that he doubted me. "The stories of what she has done, the tales of what she has made of people."

"Yes, yes I have. I've seen the bodies too," I replied, my head bowing down in thought. I could for tell that the task would be difficult, smelling the fear radiating from the butler, despite his will to prevail. "But all the reports say it was only a child, a girl."

"Please don't look at it that way. Just remember what she's done. It's already a problem that we have a murderer in the garden. However, what's worse is that Mr Tesau does not want to leave. Now, I've heard of the detective, Luke Brant, but do you think your skills will be substantial for this ordeal? You say you have your own agenda for coming here with your mother's death and all but you are still hired by us. We are still paying you and so I beg; I beg that you take this in a serious manner for your own life, Mr Tesau's life and - " He faltered, taking a moment to look down in shame before lifting his head once more. "And mine too."

His eyes were glossy and filled with angst. My chiselled expression of shocked curiosity relaxed and I looked down upon him. Pity was all I could give. But I still had a flicker of resentment to him. I didn't understand why Mr Tesau couldn't meet me personally. All he he did was send his small plump butler in his oversized tweed suit. Magnus looked more of a gangster, especially since he secreted a stench of cigars. The man looked sickly with a pale paper white face and drooping cheeks. He kept fiddling around, shifting his hands around in his blazer pockets, unsure of what he was doing. His mind was at unrest and he didn't present himself as a responsible butler.

"So you don't actually know how she got into the garden and why she's there?" I narrowed my eyes, piercing his confidence to try to squeeze answers out of him through intimidation. Nothing came from him. All he did was squeal.

"No. No, I have no idea how this happened and why would I go into the garden to ask a serial killer why she is here?"

"Well, then," I sighed, taking my coat from a hook on the wall and slipping it on. "Please inform Mr Tesau that I will be entering the garden and confronting the girl. Please wait for me to return and do not let anyone leave the manor," I instructed, looking through the entrance door's window at the faded sky. This part of town was dark and the manor was even more dull. Life here seemed to be monotonous but I yearned for something brighter. Funny, a detective wanting a bright life in a career of delving into tales of crime. Opening the door, I stepped out, my shoes grinding against the stones outside.

I made my way to the back and saw the gates barring the garden. They guarded the prisoner which resided in the prison and I was the warden, going to teach the monster a lesson. But I could still hear my mother, screaming at me while she died, screaming that I mustn't do anything rash with the girl. I turned to Magnus, who followed me in his little tweed suit.

"Those gates look like hell's gates don't they?" I asked. "And I'm walking right in there, aren't I?"

"Well, if that's the case, don't get burned in that hell Mr Brant," he joked, chuckling weakly. But I didn't laugh and he looked at me with his forced smile.

Buttoning my coat, I replied, "No. It's going to rain."

I tipped my hat to him and turned, walking toward the gates. "Goodbye Magnus."

I left him standing alone, his stupid smile still stuck on his face but his eyes in fear. They were scared. I was scared. But I stepped up.

As the sharp wind attempted to cleave me, I pushed forward, making course to the decayed gates. The gates had an intricate system of brickwork surrounding it, contrasting with the simplicity of its plain structure. However, only remnants of the bricks could be seen; they had now become the home of fresh and old moss. The moss appeared to have invaded the wall surrounding the gate, making its way to the rusting metal barriers themselves, hungry for a larger empire.

Fortunately, the gates were unbolted as if I had been expected, and I edged into the garden warily.

My eyes ran across the desolate wasteland, searching intently for any signs of life. Nothing; there was nothing apart from the chilling air and the barren garden. Weeds stabbed through the greying mud while stones lay scrambled as if they had been remains of cannon fire against the feeble field. The aura of battle and peace had long gone. The life of the garden had been extinguished. There was no single stirring; nor was there a single sound.

Only the cold remained, slithering through the atmosphere, tightening itself around me. Why was I here? I recalled my past. I recalled that past which hurt me, dismantled me, broke me - that past which made me a shell, a hollow shell.

The words which my mother dearly wasted her last minutes on - that was what this was all about. I rubbed my arms, trying to keep warm to no avail. The cold was gripping me tightly. But my mother's words were engraved in my mind; I needed to return the necklace to the address. Shivering, I tried to conclude the action I should follow but all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner next to the fire at home. But reality dawned upon me as I felt the coldness' hand tighten its grip on my throat.

Why did I have to do this?

Out of the dusk, a moss-invaded door erupted into my sight, in the centre of the rear hedges. The door hooked my attention, as if it had waited centuries and survived for my sole arrival. My mind blazed in sudden excitement as I witnessed that the beauty of the garden had survived; it took the form of cherry blossoms piercing their way through the moss on the hidden door, fighting for their freedom. But as I pushed past the door, I revealed the true base of the resistance.

The concealed flower bed behind the door was cramped yet bewitchingly beautiful. Colours flooded my eyes as my mind sighed in relief, for the garden had hope. Despite their scrambled arrangement the abundant army of coloured flowers was ready to rebel against the tyrannous moss and weeds to nourish the garden. Their very existence brought a future for the garden; they could bring back happiness.

Then, a girl just appeared. She stood in front of me. It was her. Her bleached dress swayed in the wind, revealing her to be barefoot. Her lightened hazel hair crept along her chest while blood trickled from her eyes.

Blood trickled from her eyes.

I staggered back. My eyes widened with fear and my lips trembled. My whole body trembled.

"What ... what are you?" I cried, keeping myself still. I had been warned of her. The girl - the lady of death. Running would have been my end; so I stood my ground, stopping my arms from squirming in terror. And, she was only a little girl.

" Sorry, who are you, may I ask?" I corrected.

The necklace was suddenly in my hand but I didn't falter from shock. The girl looked up from the ground, facing my face. She had lifeless eyes, those which had no colour, only a deep pale blue. It was like staring into an abyss in her eyes, searching for life. But there was nothing, only oblivion. Her head cocked to a strange angle, almost showing that she was studying and observing me.

"Thank you," she whispered with a delicate voice, her lips curling into a gentle smile. She paused. "Don't be scared."

I blinked. I saw. The necklace was gone. Flowers were erased, weeds were erased and everything was empty. Light rained down on a single patch of mud. I thought. I blinked. I stared.

She was only a little girl. I blinked.

It was raining and I saw a gravestone.