The Letter From Beyond

The chill of early spring still clung to the air, though the frost had only recently retreated. Scarlet Higgins, her once vibrant black hair now a delicate web of gray, knelt by her husband Ray’s gravestone. Daisies, a startling burst of white, bloomed with unusual fervor around the untouched granite.

“I’ve never seen so many daisies blooming this time of year,” she murmured, her voice a soft sigh against the rising wind.

Allen, her son, stood beside her, a mirror image of the man buried beneath the earth. He watched the approaching storm clouds, the melodic songs of the springtime birds beginning to falter.

“I think we need to head home, Mom, before we get soaked,” he urged, his gaze drawn to the darkening sky.

Scarlet leaned closer to the stone, a whisper escaping her lips. “Until we meet again, my darling.” A mysterious draft, cold and internal, seemed to sweep through her, a sensation she kept to herself, fearing more town gossip. They turned, leaving the blooming grave behind, the old Chrysler Newport a somber silhouette against the fading light.