The Decameron 2.0

Day 3.4 Fear - THE BOY ON THE CAROUSEL SallyMason1

"For as long as I can remember, he has visited me in my dreams. I call him my beautiful nightmare."

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The grave is still fresh, a sea of flowers carefully placed in the center and along the sides. I briefly halt, scanning the name carved into the headstone. I never heard of this man, but without a doubt, I have met him along the way. I always meet new people, most of them, I can't remember. Unless they are children. I always remember the children.

I continue my journey to the small plot at the end of the path. This grave is unkempt, the marker so withered that the name is barely decipherable.

Jennifer Henrietta Castor—taken from us too soon. May the angels watch over you for eternity.

I don't have to look at the dates to know that the girl had been just three days shy of her eighth birthday. That was ten years ago. Today, that child would be a beautiful woman.

I squat and place a single white rose in the center of the grave. "Happy birthday, baby."

A slight breeze twirls up the leafs next to the headstone, sending a chill along my bare arms. A trace of anger laces the air, and I chuckle.

"You couldn't save her." My eyes rest briefly on a larger leaf that hovers in the air. "You'll never be able to save any of them."

A new breeze flares up, tearing at my shoulder length, black hair like a contentious child that doesn't get its way.

I smirk. "Alright, alright. I won't gloat anymore. Mayhap you gonna win for a change. It might even be tonight."

Rising, I ignore the goosebumps that spring across my skin when a new chill settles in the air around me. Not my problem if he is a sore loser. He should know by now that his anger just makes the game more fun.

I dust the soil off my jeans, just about to turn and leave, when a voice snaps me out of the mesmerizing moment.

"Are you a friend of the family?"

The woman who asked the question is a shrewd old lady with hair so white it stings my eyes. The curiosity pouring from her gaze conjures a smile on my lips. It is so typical for her kind to always have to pry. It's what makes me so successful in my line of work. If people just knew how true the saying "Curiosity killed the cat" really is, maybe they wouldn't be that damn nosy.

"Mayhap I am."

My response throws her off track for a second, but in the end, her need to gossip prevails. "Tragic what happened here. First the daughter, then the parents. Did you know that the child was killed sleepwalking?"

I stifle a snort. Did I know? I was there, lady. "Yes, sleepwalking can be very dangerous." When it comes down to it, only Jennifer is to blame. All she had to do was ride the carousel with me, but she refused. After that, I had to kill her in one of her nightmares. Those are the rules of the game.

"And then the parents. Heartbroken. They say they took their own lives, but personally, I think it was just a freaky accident."

"Well, I guess we'll never know."

The leaves twirl up again like an angry roar. I catch one with my hand and crush it, showing him to butt out of this conversation.

"I have to run, dear," she says. "My great grandson is coming over."

I smile at her mildly, doubting she meant the "running" part literally. "It was nice to meet you. Have a good day now," and pleasant dreams. I know she won't—I would make certain of that. From here on out, there would be nothing but nightmares. Her bad for talking to me and getting on my nerves.