This must be the strangest story I've ever thought up... Oh well... Review anyway please :) Comment on my choice of flowers, if nothing else.
Warnings: This probably won't make sense. There is a story behind it in my head- I might write it out one day...
About 12 miles out of London, near a small village, was a hill, and on that hill was a garden. Many who accidentally stumbled upon it wondered at first why they had never heard of it before.
It was indeed a beautiful place. Situated on the sunny hillside, warm and gentle with hardly a breeze; protected from winds by the many hedges and borders around it. A traveler, unfamiliar with the place, would have thought they had wandered into a small patch of heaven. From a short distance the archway leading into the little garden surrounded by flowers looked particularly inviting. As soon as they set foot over the threshold, however, this illusion was quickly dispelled. Somehow it was always cold within that circle of flowers- tall sweet peas arranged in a semicircle around the arch, purple hyacinth and lilies within- and even the vibrant colour of the flowers became dull. The knee-high stone that stood in the centre, a few feet in front of the arch, was a glossy black and shaped like a tombstone, only it was unmarked. Somehow these visitors never stayed long enough to note the blood red colour of the sweet-peas, or the lilies that should have been pure white, just tainted ever so slightly pink.
Anyone who was familiar with the area and its history would have thought twice about going near the little garden in the first place. There was a legend that dealt with the two children who used to live in the Manor, some 20 years ago. Their mother had died and left them to an uncle who had abused and beaten the little boys. One day they tried to escape, but something went wrong in the plan. Some said that their uncle had caught them and killed the youngest child but the other had escaped. Some said that one of the children had killed the other so that he could get free himself. Some said that one child was too weak to run and had collapsed and died of exhaustion. All agreed, however, that one child escaped and the other died, and that that child had been buried in the garden by his brother who had sworn to reunite them one day.
Some of the more fanciful locals claimed they had seen the ghost of a small boy, longhaired and ragged, sitting by the archway, waiting for his brother to fulfill his promise. Others said that this was just superstitious nonsense for there was no such thing as ghosts; but all the same they never let their children go anywhere near the garden.
On the 18th November- an important date because this was when the aforementioned legend had taken place- a very unusual thing was happening in this quiet village. At least, had anybody observed this, they would have thought it strange, but that was merely because they had never seen this occurrence that happened on this day every year.
A man was standing just inside the archway of the little garden, a young man with rather long blond hair and sad blue eyes, standing before the glossy black stone and staring glassily at the flowers surrounding him. He did not shiver, as any other would have done. He didn't even feel the cold. Cold to him meant icy stone floors, a thin ragged blanket not meant to cover two bodies however small, chapped bleeding fingers and frozen tears; not the unearthly chill that was just barely noticeable in the air.
He always came here on the 18th. It was a special day- the 'anniversary' he supposed one could call it- the anniversary of Fai's death. He smiled at the flowers. Flowers he'd chosen himself, especially for this place. Sweet peas, for the departure from the living. Purple Hyacinth, for sorrow, and to say 'I'm sorry'.
"So sorry..." The murmur was hardly audible.
And lastly, lilies. He wasn't sure why exactly he had planted them. Perhaps because they were the sort of plants one placed on a grave. Funeral flowers... He laughed, bitterly.
People said that flowers were pure, innocent things- they could not feel evil and therefore were not affected by it. He knew better. Nowhere else could one find such bright red sweet-peas, and lilies were supposed to be white, not tainted with ever so faint pink tinges around the edge, growing darker as one peered into the stem. Red lilies; blood lilies.
These plants had fed on human blood, hatred and despair for twenty years. They understood him perfectly, they felt his emotions and more importantly his brother's spirit lived on in them. They watched him silently, waiting for the time when he would fulfill his promise, for the day when they would feed on fresh blood; his blood.
"It's almost time now. Almost time... Be patient a little longer- there are a few things that must be completed first."
The young man knelt suddenly and bowed his head before the unmarked stone. "Don't worry Fai. I'll be with you soon."
He stood and turned, striding underneath the arch and up the hill without looking back. If he had, maybe he would have heard the almost silent whisper echoing after him.
"Yuui..."
The End