All the Dust and Lilies
All the Dust and Lilies
Story By Martha Wickham
Elle inherited her great-aunt’s home out in the country. Her mother didn’t need it, so they made a deal. Farms and scattered gardens surrounded the land, and when Elle finally found the old house, she was amazed. The two-story home was in fairly good condition. A massive tree reached almost to the roof, its vines climbing itself and the siding, but the most striking thing of all was the lilies, hundreds of them growing in a thick white ring around the house.
When she stepped out of the car, she stared at them, stunned by the sea of white. As she approached, a sudden cold breeze brushed past her, and she laughed, thinking she should name the dirt road Lily Lane. It seemed perfect if she could ever get a sign made.
She unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The house was messy, coated in a thick, smooth layer of untouched dust. Still, she didn’t mind. With some help and a little TLC, it could be the perfect country home. After cleaning, she would bring in her furniture once it arrived.
She returned to the car, grabbed her box of cleaning supplies, then came back for her bags and suitcases. The lilies added a beautiful touch, but there were too many of them. Inside, she found a broom her great-aunt had left behind and grabbed a sponge to start clearing the dust. Some spots were so thick she had to sweep them, creating little clouds that drifted through the air. She also needed to vacuum. As she worked, she realised she wasn’t getting hot despite it being June. When she opened the kitchen window, the heat rushed in, but inside she remained strangely cold. She set the cleaning box down and put the broom away for later.
Exploring the drawers, she found scissors and a vase, then went outside to cut some lilies. She gathered quite a few. Their long petals felt unnervingly cold. When she noticed something sticking out of the soil, she dug it up: a small statue of a mummy. She found a gardening trowel and dug around for more, but uncovered nothing else. Just then, the movers arrived with her furniture. She carried her flowers inside and opened the door for them. They removed all the old furniture except for a few pieces in the family room and basement.
The following day, after vacuuming, the house already looked better. She decided to pick more flowers before cleaning the windows and dusting the shelves. She even debated starting a flower stand selling lily bouquets, maybe turning it into a small lily farm. When she went to grab her cleaning supplies, the box was missing. She planned to look for it later, but as she headed toward the door, a warning whispered through the dust: Don’t go into the garden.
She froze. The mummy statue now sat on a shelf like an idol. Had her great-aunt worshipped these things? It was time to explore.
Elle opened the basement door near the kitchen and stepped inside. Boxes of old belongings lined the walls, and among them she found her missing cleaning supplies; the movers must have stored them here. She brought the box to the laundry room and then stepped outside to inspect the yard more carefully.
There was no fence, and the nearest house wasn’t even visible. She walked toward the lilies and stepped into them. They smelled wonderful, but the same cooling breeze drifted around her, maybe coming from the mountains, or maybe from somewhere else. She dug lightly with the small garden shovel, smoothing the dirt. It appeared disturbed in several areas, possibly due to animal activity, although this was not confirmed. Something metal caught the sunlight. She pulled out a small gold band possibly her great-aunt’s wedding ring. Another ring lay nearby, likely her husband’s. As she dug with her hands, she found an old man’s watch. She carried all the items back inside and set them on the counter.
That evening, just before dinner, a new message appeared in the dust: don’t go out
“I won’t,” Elle murmured. “Not until tomorrow.”
Who was warning her? Her great-aunt? Probably. But why?
The house creaked with age, but the messages proved it this place was haunted. Maybe once she solved the mystery, the ghosts would finally leave her alone.
That night, she planned out her flower stand. She’d need the stand itself, wrapping material for the lilies, and a spot along a busy road. She’d call it Lily Lane. In the morning, she phoned her mother to update her. When Elle mentioned the haunting, her mother said she might visit that week. Elle also wanted to help her mother with her own Lily Lane stand; she definitely wanted to get involved.
Together, they fixed up the stand. It was painted green with white lettering, Lily Lane. All Elle had to do now was place it at the crossroads five minutes from the house. Since the spirits clearly didn’t want her near the flowers, she decided to bargain with them. She offered to leave something in exchange. When she mentioned it aloud, a voice answered her great-aunt’s voice.
“Eleanor, please stay away.”
“I want to sell the lilies,” Elle said. “There are so many, and they’ll die.”
“That’s all right. But there’s a ghost in them. It is my late husband,” her great-aunt replied.
“What is he doing there?” Elle whispered.
“I cannot say. I tried to protect you, but he fell before I died, and I never knew how to explain it. He fell down the stairs. I buried him somewhere in the middle of the lily garden. That’s why there are so many; they keep spreading, growing wildly,” Joanna said.
“So I can either leave him there and sell lilies as he grows more and more… or find him and call the coroner,” Elle said quietly.
“Yes. It is easier to leave him. He haunts the yard, and I haunt the house,” Joanna replied.
“Okay, I’ll try it for a while. I do love the lilies,” Elle decided.
“Yes, but they don’t grow in the winter, dear.” Joanna appeared in a glittering flash of light, then vanished again.
Elle sighed. She would try it for a while. If she called the cops, she didn’t want any ghosts angry with her. It could work. She wouldn’t bother them.
**
Before going out to sell at her flower stand, she checked on the lilies. They were cold again, and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw a middle-aged man with dark hair standing by the flowers, shaking his head in dismay. He cast no shadow. Elle turned away and walked quickly to her car, heading out to sell her flowers.
She managed to sell some, and on her way home, she thought it might be a good idea to move her flowers outside near a market. Maybe she could pull a few, plant them in pots, and sell them that way. She could charge more.
When she got home, she grabbed a glass of cold water and went outside. After finding some pots in the shed, she took a small shovel and began digging up a few flowers. After removing two, she dug toward the middle and struck something hard and thick roots. As she dug above a long space about six and a half feet deep, vines shot up and wrapped around her arms. They began pulling her down into the loosened earth like quicksand. She tried cutting them with the shovel, but the blade barely scraped them.
The vines tightened and dragged her down until only her head remained above the soil. When her feet hit a box, everything stopped. A female ghost, covered in sparkling dust, appeared. She threw handfuls of dust at the vines and at the male ghost hovering nearby. The vines released Elle immediately. She clawed her way upward, and the dusty ghost floated closer, offering a hand. Elle took it and was pulled free from the trap.
Maybe she should forget the garden and start selling other types of flowers, she thought. It was late in the afternoon, and she was tired and hungry. “Thank you,” she whispered to the ghost before going inside.
That evening, she returned and dug around the old roots until she reached the box her feet had struck earlier. The sky had darkened, but her porch lights were bright enough to illuminate the area. She uncovered the box, opened it, and stared at the skeletal body of her great aunt’s husband.
A sharp, piercing sound erupted behind her, and she jumped. The male ghost was watching her again before he disappeared. When he vanished, every lily around her withered, including the vines. They were gone forever. She would have to clear it all out.
Inside, the house sparkled. There was no dust or dirt anywhere. The rooms were perfectly clean, and the dust curse was broken. When she looked up from the dining room table, she saw her aunt smiling at her, her grey hair shimmering like a fairy godmother's.
“What will you do?” Elle asked.
“I’ll be around. You may not see me, but I’ll be here,” Aunt Joanna said, floating away.
Over the next few days, clearing out the lilies became surprisingly easy, and a truck eventually came to haul them away. Elle closed her flower stand for a while and instead bought a large greenhouse where she could grow and care for plants in peace. She now had plenty of time to think about which flowers she wanted to cultivate.
Spring was almost a year away.
Just before her house, a sign stood proudly: Lily Lane.