The Swing

The open meadow was silent except for the occasional brush of wind through the prairie grass. Cecilia ran straight through the grass, hands stretched out on either side to wave through the silky strands. Her destination lay in front of her, the large tree standing tall in the middle of the field, overlooking the meadow. Stopping abruptly, Cecilia turned around and held up a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sunlight.

“Mel, hurry up!” She called. A little way behind her was a small figure cautiously picking her way through the grasses. Even farther behind the small figure, was the faint outline of their house, smoke exiting out the chimney, gray against the reddish-orange sky. Occasionally Mel would stop and pick off any stray leaf or flower that had attached itself to her sweater, causing her to fall behind. At her sister’s voice, Mel glanced up and began to hop-run until she reached Cecilia.

“You mustn’t take so long; mother will be calling us in for dinner before we even have a chance to play.” Cecilia said. Mel nodded before bounding out into the meadow. Cecilia followed suit and the two girls ran, dresses streaming behind them, until they reached the tree.

Whenever the two sisters had free time to play, after they finished their chores, they came out to this tree and let their imaginations run wild. Sometimes they brought out their homemade dolls, greyed and frayed from years of play, but today they just brought themselves. The tree in the middle of the field was always their destination, and the scene of many plays. One of their favorite plays to act out was a legend their mother had told them about a girl Cecilia’s age who had died in this very field. The girl had been very mean to the other children and so they did not want to play with her, causing the girl to stab herself and die, and sometimes she reappeared after dark. It was alleged to have happened when her mother was young, which seemed like a very long time ago to Cecilia. Because of the story, she always made sure to be home before the sun set, in case the legend came true, but that did not stop the two sisters from having fun with the story.

The old oak, gnarled and weathered from years of watching over the field, was one of the largest trees she had ever seen. Having already lost all its leaves for the season, or quite possibly because the tree was old, the limbs were long and lifeless, stretching out to the evening sky. On one such branch was tied two strings of rope that held up a small wooden swing. There was a dark stain in the middle of the seat, that had been there for as long as Cecilia could remember. The stain had dried a long time ago, but sometimes if they stayed out too close to sunset the stain felt damp and sticky. At first, the stain scared her, and she was hesitant to use the swing. But one day, she overcame her fear and hopped on the swing, and had ignored it and been sure to be home way before the sun set ever since. This day was no different. She reached the tree first and sat down on the swing, ignoring the stain as usual. She kicked off the ground and swung back and forth a few times while she waited for her sister to catch up. Mel reached speaking distance and Cecilia called out to her.

“Mel, push me!”

“No fair, you always get to swing first,” Mel said, stamping her foot.

“Yeah, well I got here first, so that means I get to swing first,” Cecilia replied. “Push me high and then maybe I’ll push you.”

Mel crossed her arms and glared at her sister. This argument was familiar to the both of them and yet always led to the same standstill-Cecilia on the swing and Mel left to play by herself while the older sister swung. Cecilia watched Mel contemplate her options and kicked off the ground again, swinging back and forth a few times.

“Come on, Mel, push me!”

“Fine! But you have to promise to let me swing too,” Mel said, arms still tightly crossed across her body.

“I promise! Now come on,” Cecilia said. Mel uncrossed her arms and begrudgingly came and gave her sister a little shove.

“Harder!”

Mel complied and shoved her sister a little harder than before. Soon Cecilia was swinging as high as the tree branches and no longer needed Mel’s pushes. As Cecilia stretched out her hands as if flying, Mel wandered to the other side of the tree where a small group of purple daisies had been growing.

Mel noticed the purple flowers and clapped her hands in delight. Kneeling, she reached out and picked the flowers until she had a small bouquet in her hand. As Cecilia swung higher and higher, Mel stood up and looked out into the prairie. There were more purple daisies growing among the grasses, among a patch of berries. She slowly walked closer to the flowers as the sky darkened from a passing cloud covering the sun, causing a shadowed form to be visible a few feet in front of Mel. Mel slowly followed the shadow into the field, where she disappeared among the grasses.

Cecilia, decided she had had enough time to swing and dragged her feet along the ground, bringing the swing to a stop. Her face flushed red, from the cool air and the exertion from swinging, and her hair falling out of her braid, she called out to Mel.

“Mel it’s your turn!”

Cecilia waited for a response, and after hearing nothing, she started to walk around the other side of the tree.

“Meeellll,” she called. “This isn’t funny!” Cecilia made her way around to the small patch of purple daisies. The sky was getting darker and was turning various shades of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Mel was nowhere to be seen.

“Mel come on! The sun is setting, and mother will be so mad if we don’t get home soon,” Cecilia called again. Cecilia ran around the tree multiple times. She ran out into the meadow next to the swing to see if Mel had laid down in the grass. Even standing on the swing revealed no sign of her. Cecilia felt hot tears form in the corner of her eyes. It was getting dark, and Mel should have known that Cecilia hated playing hide and seek, especially when she wasn’t told they were playing and especially close to sunset. As the first tear fell onto her cheek, and as the sun fell below the horizon, Cecilia heard a sound.

“Cece! Come quick! I found a new friend,” Mel called. Cecilia shot up from the swing and ran towards the sound of her voice. Around the tree she went and there was Mel standing right next to the patch of purple daisies. Cecilia gasped. Mel stood there, eyes glazed as if in a trance, one hand holding berries from the field. Holding Mel’s other hand was a young girl, wearing a long white dress. Upon first look, the figure seemed like every little girl. But as Cecilia watched, she noticed that the girl’s feet never quite touched the ground and that she could see the whole meadow through her. The girl also looked remarkably similar to the girl in the legend their mom always told them.

“Mel, I think we should go home now,” Cecilia said cautiously.

“But I want to play with my new friend! Can she maybe come home with us? Her name is Lydia Marie, and she loves purple daisies,” Mel replied. Her voice had lost most of its inflection and she was gazing longingly at the ghostly figure beside her. “We played tea in the field and ate the most delicious berries. Lydia suggested I eat them, and they were very good.”

“I think we should say goodbye and come back and play another da-“

“Why don’t you want to play with me?” A quiet, yet haunting voice filled Cecilia’s mind. “I just want to play.” Lydia Marie had tilted her head as she asked the question, and Cecilia noticed that her dress had developed a red stain in the middle near her stomach, that looked oddly similar to the stain on the swing. Cecilia looked toward Mel, standing eerily still beside Lydia Marie.

“Yeah, why don’t you want to play with us?” Mel repeated, head tilting in the same fashion as Lydia’s. “You never want to play with me when I want to play.” Cecilia noticed that Mel’s mouth was suddenly foaming as she spoke, and the berries had disappeared from her hand. Cecilia slowly backed away and turned to run.

As she turned however, Lydia Marie appeared right in front of her, still holding Mel’s hand. This time, Mel’s feet didn’t touch the ground either and the whole meadow could be seen through both Lydia and Mel. Mel reached out and touched Cecilia’s shoulder. Cecilia tried to dodge away but she was unsuccessful and felt the chilling cold of Mel’s touch.

As Mel touched her, Cecilia saw a vision of a young girl in a white dress sitting on the wooden swing, a knife protruding from her stomach. Cecilia stood frozen as she watched the girl pull the knife out, eyes glazed, blood spilling out of the wound onto the swing. Then the girl smiled and spoke.

“Now maybe I will be pitied, instead of hated, and everyone will want to play with poor, sad Lydia Marie.”

The vision abruptly ended, and Cecilia stumbled backward. It was only a second of cold, but it was long enough that Cecilia knew she needed to get away.

“I’ll come play tomorrow, I promise!” Cecilia begged. She turned again and tried to run away in the opposite direction past the swing. As she passed by the swing, she noticed that the red stain looked wet, visible in the ghostly glow that had appeared around the tree. She stopped in her tracks and stared in horror. This is why she never stayed out past sunset. She stood still, fear preventing her from moving.

Suddenly, Lydia Marie appeared right in front of Cecilia’s face. She screamed and jumped back, her back hitting the tree, never taking eyes off the ghostly figure. Lydia Marie merely laughed, a laugh that sent chills up Cecilia’s spine, and pushed the swing.

Before she could react, the swing had swung up and was pressing against Cecilia’s throat. She gasped for air and grabbed and pulled at the swing cutting off her air supply. As she struggled, she watched as Lydia Marie slowly drifted closer to her, hand held out to keep the swing at her victim’s throat.

The pressure intensified around Cecilia’s neck making it even harder to breathe, as Lydia drew close enough that she could watch as the blood oozed out of the ghost’s wound. She started pulling at the ropes more frantically, her hands starting to bleed from the rope. Her vision started to go dark as her brain and body struggled and grasped for any oxygen.

“All I wanted was another friend to play with, and yet you said no,” Lydia Marie said, with a wicked smile. All Cecilia could do in response was whimper and pick up her efforts to stay alive.

“What was that?” Lydia loosened the pressure on Cecilia enough that she could croak out a few words.

“What—did you do—to my—sister,” Cecilia ground out.

“Don’t worry about her, she is safe and—”

Lydia cocked her head to the side to listen and did not finish her sentence. Cecilia heard it too. It was her mother calling out for them in the distance, her voice getting closer and closer to the tree. Lydia groaned in frustration.

“Of course, adults always ruin the fun,” Lydia said. “I will get you to play next time, my friend.”

At that, Lydia Marie disappeared and so did the pressure on Cecilia’s neck. The swing swung back to its position hanging from the tree, as if nothing had happened. She collapsed on the ground, hands holding her hurting neck. But then she remembered Mel.

Cecilia scrambled to her feet and ran to the purple daisies, then ran into the field where she could see the berries growing. As she reached the thicket of berries, she screamed as she saw what lay on the ground. It was Mel, eyes open, staring unseeing into the night sky. Her skin was pale, and her hands held the berries that had poisoned her. Cecilia fell to the ground crying. Her sister was dead.

Later, when her mother walked her home, tears streaming from both their eyes, Cecilia turned around for one last look at the tree. Faint in the moonlight, shone two glowing figures: one on the swing, and the other pushing.