From a distance beyond the clearing I could see the indelicate mound rising from the otherwise flush earth, and my heart sank. My skin drank in the light trickling through the trees. Summer was giving way to fall as revealed by the wavering colors of the woods. The day was quickly escaping as night waited patiently to take its place. The journey had been deafeningly quiet. I had kept one foot in front of the other, focusing on each step, fearing that my mind would be allowed to wander and think of her. This was as far as my body would willingly take me. I knelt down and stared at the ground as if it could offer me solace. The grass was browning here and I plucked individual blades out, letting them fall to the side. They came away from the ground easily and as long as I payed attention to the meaningless task, the fear of what I was about to discover was kept at bay.
My heart was beating as fast as if I had run the whole length of the woods to reach this clearing. But I hadn’t. I tried to slow my breathing, but every time I did I was reminded of the bubbling paranoia.
The woods were warm but this place sent a chill into my very soul. There was a coldness here that existed beneath the world, beyond the veil. Perhaps I was imagining it. No one ventured this far into the woods - there were no compelling reasons to do so. But she had a reason. And I had to find her. I couldn’t stop her from going and perhaps I even caused her to leave.
But I blame him. The boy from the edge of town.
* * *
The carriage stopped abruptly and I could hear the horses whinnying outside. What new source of displeasure awaited me beyond the wooden walls of my conveyance? The night had already been more of a disaster than I could handle. I glared at Penny and told her to wait in the carriage. I opened the door and was greeted with a downpour of rain water. The wind was howling and the sky was dark. I shut the carriage behind me and opened my umbrella. I sloshed through the muddy road towards the carriage driver. The crunch of glass brought my attention to the ground. One of the hooded lanterns had fallen from the carriage and was shattered to pieces. I looked to the driver for an explanation. He was kneeling a few yards ahead looking intently at something. There, lying crumpled in the street was a boy who could not have been older than fifteen. With reticence, I approached, keeping a safe distance from the boy. The roads were becoming increasingly unsafe and should the boy’s injuries prove a ruse I would prefer not to add robbery to the list of the night’s disappointments. Before she was at my side I could sense her approach. Penny didn’t so much as walk as she did drift. She passed by me and knelt by the boy’s side. She looked up at me - when she was determined there was no changing her mind.
We brought the boy back to the manor. He was in fact injured and unconscious - his right arm bent at a horrific angle and his skin was bruised and abraded. Penny stayed at the boy’s side while I elicited the assistance of Mr. Cadril, the local physician. He was not overly pleased at my late night insistence but he came just the same. He set the boy’s arm and bandaged the wounds. He handed me a bottle of pills to dull any remaining pain when the boy should awaken. I offered Cadril a glass of brandy and we exchanged pleasantries. The hour grew late and I thanked him for his time as he returned to the night.
Penny had not left the boy’s side since we found him lying on the road. She had a predilection for taking on projects and I could already tell that her obsession was starting in. The morning would be a better time to calm her - I was exhausted. I kissed her goodnight and retired to my bed chamber. I awoke only once that night as Penny slipped under the covers and slid her arm over my chest.
The boy as it turns out was called Oliver. He didn’t give a last name, nor did he speak much during the weeks that followed. I allowed the boy to stay under my roof until such time as he was well enough to leave. Penny agreed to attend to his needs should any arise while I was away for work. My duties to the province required I travel to the capitol and there I resided for the next month. During my stay I received a letter from Penny assuring me that everything was well at home. Oliver was mending quickly and was becoming quite a helpful presence around the manor.
I returned from my trip overjoyed to see Penny. I took her out for brunch with the Falwicks at Saunder’s Park. It was good to have a day with no distractions and no disturbances. And yet, Penny was distant. She carried on with polite conversation but I knew that she was not entirely well. Her mood devolved upon our return to the manor. When I pressed the subject, she politely excused herself to her bedchambers. I poured myself a glass of brandy and sat in the garden with the local paper. It was there that I witnessed a peculiar sight. The boy Oliver stood at the far side of the garden staring with an unnatural stillness at a row of hedges. I observed him standing thusly for a few minutes more before growing curious. I called to him and he started at the sound of my voice. He looked at me for a moment and then ran off into the nearby woods. After he had gone, I ventured over to the spot when he had been standing and found a disturbing image. At the base of the hedges was the corpse of a rabbit. It’s neck had been snapped but twisted back into place. It was laid out on a bed of leaves which had been torn from the hedge. It looked almost peaceful were it not for the brutal circumstance of its death.
Oliver did not return to the manor until the last light had been painted away by the inky black of night. Penny and I were sitting at the table for dinner when the front door opened. The boy was covered in grime and Penny rushed to him and pulled him to the washroom. She cleaned him up and sent him to his room. I wished to speak to the boy but I confess, I was timorous to be alone with him. There was something about the way he looked at me from across the garden that turned my skin cold. That night I locked the door to our bedchambers. I lay in bed far too aware of the noises in the dark. It was as if the creaks and moans of the manor spoke to one another. Sleep could not come soon enough.
The next day I spoke to Penny about sending Oliver away. His injuries had all but healed and there was no need for him to stay any longer. At this she grew increasingly irate. The boy had nowhere else to go. I decided against pressing the subject further that day. The week that followed was better. Penny seemed in higher spirits and Oliver was less reclusive. The boy refused to speak to me. On more than one occasion I caught him staring at Penny with a look that might seem like a youthful crush but all I could see was obsession. One day Penny wanted to take Oliver in to town to buy some sweets. In their absence I stole into Oliver’s bedchamber and found another grisly display. I opened the closet and found the wall covered in dead butterflies, each one pinned meticulously to the plaster.
Penny went to bed that night with a smile on her face and I was glad. Glad to have a moment to speak to the boy alone. When I arrived in his bedchambers, I was disturbed to find the room vacant. I searched the parlor and the dining room but found them equally unoccupied. I am not a man who frightens easily but my recent discoveries invited a murkiness into my mind. A sudden anxiety drew my attention upstairs to my bedchambers. Furtively, I climbed the worn-out staircase. I rounded the corner just in time to see Oliver, half concealed by the night’s shadows, shut the door to my bedchamber. Panic gripped my heart and drove me towards the boy. I seized him by the arm pulled him away from the door. In a heated whisper I demanded to know what he was doing in my chambers. He remained as silent as a ghost. Not wishing to let him leave my sight I cracked the door to my chambers and saw Penny lying in bed as still as a corpse. I held my breath and waited - in a moment her chest raised as she took in breath. A wave of relief washed over me as I gently closed the door.
I dragged Oliver downstairs and into his room at which point I less than gracefully cast him onto the bed. With very little attempt to calm my demeanor I marched to the closet door and flung it open. I stared at the empty walls inside with consternation - the shrine of death had disappeared. Intent on discerning the truth, I questioned the boy about the butterflies and the rabbit. I watched his face, hoping to find some sign of humanity, but found nothing but a void. I would not allow this disturbed boy to stay in my home a day longer. As I was about to exit the room Oliver finally spoke, his voice oddly detached. They were too beautiful.
I locked the door to his room that night.
The next morning during breakfast, Penny inquired why Oliver was not joining us. I told her that he was locked in his room for our safety. He would not be staying with us any longer. This upset her greatly and she fetched the key to let Oliver out. I tried to reason with her as I followed her across the foyer but her concern for the boy outweighed my words. I placed a pleading hand on her shoulder as she slid the key into the lock. She paused and then turned the latch. The door creaked open revealing an empty room. Oliver was gone. He had escaped through the window and into the night. Penny became resolute and insisted on going after him. I tried to no avail to calm her and keep her home but she feared for the boy’s safety. Against my better judgement, I didn’t stop her from following after him. She was gone and I was left alone with my breakfast.
* * *
I stood up and relaxed my fist, allowing the last blades of grass to fall to the earth below. Every instinct I had pulled me away from here but my feet carried me forward into the clearing. I could see it sitting there in the middle of the dell but the strangeness of it being there kept me from understanding. My legs nearly buckled with each new step but I crept ever closer. My heart threatened to burst forth from my chest. And there she was, my beautiful Penny, lying on a bed of dead leaves. Rational thought escaped me - instead my head was a wave of emotion. Penny lay dead before me, peacefully positioned as if she was on display. I collapsed to the ground as my legs refused to continue holding my weight. And there was only one thought that found purchase in my mind. She was too beautiful.
Dead Leaves was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.
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