Short Story

Utopian Purgatory

Statuesque secrets

Mason Bushell
WE PAW Bloggers

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Some times and images create the weirdest stories. I hope you enjoy this tale of fear and mystery.

Photo by Marianna Smiley on Unsplash

Utopian Purgatory

“Addy! Addy, where are you?” I screamed, breathless. My daughter was right here in the cemetery and now, she was gone.

We’d come to lay flowers on Nanny Edith’s grave. We always did each year. Never did I expect a visit to turn into a nightmare.

The sun hit like an oven but I was sweating through the adrenaline coursing through my body with every hammer beat of my heart.

I ran between the grey stone walls of interment vaults and crypt entrances. “Addy, please come back to me!”

The lines of gravestones were devoid of life. Nothing, not even a bird moved between the granite crosses, angels and yew trees.

Had my little girl collapsed around here somewhere? Did a predator, animal or human, snatch her? My thoughts spiraled ever darker as I ran on. Each possibility was punctuated by my wife’s angry tirade.

“Don’t you dare leave that cemetery until you find Addy! You were supposed to watch her and now she’s gone!” her wrath was so strong I knew I’d be interred here if I didn’t find our daughter.

The forested surroundings seemed to constrict around the cemetery. It seemed to press into my psyche as I turned a circle, desperate to glimpse her crimson dress — Nothing.

The church! Maybe she went in there. I began running with a coldness creeping through my sweating body.

An old gentleman on a cane ambled into view.

I ran toward him, “Sir, have you seen a little girl here,” I indicated three feet tall. “I — I lost her.”

He gave me a suspicious look.

“Please, I’m her father. She’s wearing a crimson dress.”

“I’m here to see my daughter too,” he said in a maudlin and distant way.

“I’m really, so, sorry for your loss. My daughter is alive, did you see her?” I kept scanning the graveyard, knowing every passing moment diminished my chances of hugging my Addy again.

“Thank you,” he raised his cane with a withered hand, indicating a near-hidden path in the forest. It was marked by a cherub on a short doric column turned green with moss. “You should try through there. That’s the oldest part of the cemetery. My daughter went there and vanished fifty-three years ago today.”

“What?” his words struck me like lightning, “Are you saying your daughter ran away from here like mine this morning?”

“No, We were visiting her mum, she died while giving birth you see, when it happened.” The old man wiped his eyes.

“What happened?” my chest grew so tight I could barely get air.

“She was holding my hand and then she was gone.”

“But you know she went into the older cemetery?”

He nodded, “I found her hair ribbon there. Never saw her again.”

“Right, thank you.” I made to leave.

“There are mysterious powers at work here. Your daughter is gone, you will disappear too if you keep searching — mark my words.”

“Understood.” I said although the words ‘What the hell is going on!’ echoed in my mind. Despite his warning I had to keep searching, the alternative was death by cast iron skillet, anyway.

I sucked in a deep breath that failed to stop me from shaking and ran toward the cherub.

“Go home while you still can!” yelled the man.

I ignored him, passed the cherub and entered the forest. The harsh sunlight faded to dappled shades of green as the woodland sucked all the heat from the day. Midges and mosquitos hung light bait balls wherever shards of light pierced the oak tree canopy.

I followed the path between purple flowering rhododendrons and then I saw them. Two seven-foot-tall angels, acting as guardians to the cemetery beyond.

My skin prickled with energy as I passed between them. No more than twenty stones lay tangled within ivy and nettles here. Most were leaning through considerable age.

It was the chapel that took my attention. The entry porch and doors were long gone leaving a gaping hole in the grey stone walls. Wooden struts had been installed to stop the ceiling from caving in. Within the damaged structure was a single statue of a woman. Her eyes were closed and with the lilting of her head, she seemed to be mourning.

“Addy! Are you here?” My shout seemed drowned by the forest.

Silence.

My eyes burned as I glanced around the space. I felt the dampness of tears falling onto my cheeks. “Please, tell me where you are!”

“Caw!”

The jackdaw’s call caused a jolt to burst through me. I gazed above me in time to see it swoop into the chapel. A single crimson ribbon fluttered into the brambles before a gravestone shaped like a Celtic knot.

“Addy!” I ran over and grabbed the ribbon. It was hers, she had two holding her cute pigtails this morning. Where on earth was she?

“No!” the gravestone couldn’t be telling the truth.

Here lies Addalyn Morgan May 2014 — May 2024’

How was this possible? The gravestone, the graveyard was centuries old.

Somewhere between shock and despair, my fear became anger, “Enough of the sick games! Give my daughter back, now!”

“That’s not possible,” said the old man standing by the angels.

“Where is she?”

He pointed at the statue in the chapel.

Even as I watched, great cracks split the stone of her body and face. Her hands gripped and tore a ragged hole in her chest. There was no darkness within, the space radiated a warm green glow as ferns and grasses revealed themselves within a shimmering aura.

My legs lost all control of my body and I collapsed to my knees, “What the hell is this?”

“They call it Utopia.”

“Who’s they? And why did they take my daughter?” I yelled.

He pointed to the sky. “The Saviors -At least that’s what they call themselves.”

“What! How does saving people justify disappearing girls and making them appear dead!” I stepped toward the chapel.

“Wait!” the old man raised a hand.

“If my daughter is in there, I’m getting her back!” I entered the chapel and stopped before the statue. A magnetic aura pulsed from it, pulling at the hairs on my arms and head.

“No, you can’t. You enter that portal and they will kill you.”

“I — I …” I grabbed my hair as I struggled to breathe again. This was insane, nothing made sense. It wasn’t even real. “Why is this happening?”

“Because the human race is too greedy. Every day one hundred and fifty species go extinct due to humans destroying ecosystems and polluting everything they touch. If this continues Earth will become a lifeless ball of rock within thirty years. The Saviors don’t think we have that long left to live.”

“Then how long do we have?”

“Three to six months. They are connected to every government on Earth and believe nothing can be done to stop a nuclear war annihilating every living thing on the planet.”

“Holy crap! So, they created a new world and need our children to populate it?”

“Exactly, there is a portal to Utopia on every continent. They’ve done this for millennia. Each time Earth’s life becomes extinct they repopulate it with souls from Utopia.” The old man took a breath. “So, you see. You must do as I did and let your daughter go.”

“How do you know this?”

“I entered the portal. I’m now bound to this cemetery as a spirit guardian.”

“But you’re a solid form I can …”

The forest became visible through the man’s form until he faded to nothing. “No, I’m not.”

I spun on the spot. He was now standing beside the statue.

“Hell with this. If I go home without my daughter and a cockamamy story like this, I’m dead anyway!” I leapt into the statue’s chest.

A feeling of dampness permeated my clothes. Then a warmth took over my body as everything flashed greens and golds. The plucky notes of a harp grew louder and louder -

Nothing.

I was sat against a solid surface in a world of darkness.

A light flickered on and a human silhouette emerged from within. It grew larger as it approached.

“Daddy it’s me, Addy.”

Addy, sweetheart. Are you okay?” I said flooded with emotion as I reached for her.

She put herself in my arms, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry, okay. I’ll get you out of here.” I stood with her held against my chest. It was a special moment to feel her living and breathing against me.

“There is no here. There is no there. When nuclear holocaust comes to bear.” She kissed my cheek.

Lightning flashed through my senses and I fell into the darkness.

Pain erupted within my skull.

“Mr Morgan, can you hear me?” said an old man.

I fluttered open my eyes, “Addy, is she alright?”

He smiled, “She’s with the paramedics. The chapel roof collapsed, and you saved her with your body. You’re a hero”

“Thank you,” I groaned my way into a sitting position. Every part of my body felt pummeled and bruised. The statue loomed over me. Her chest was no longer torn open. I looked from it to the old man.

He winked, placed a finger to his lips and walked into the forest.

“Daddy! Are you okay?” Addy ran over and hugged me.

“So, as long as you are, Daddy will always be fine,” I told her while hugging back with all the love I could muster.

“We’ll need to take you for x-rays, Mr Morgan,” said a paramedic.

“Oh, good. I’ll be glad to be anywhere but here!”

They placed me on a gurney and let Addy sit beside me for the trip to the ambulance. I glanced back at the chapel and was sure the statue nodded to me.

The End

Image created by D. Denise Dianaty, Editor and Graphic Designer for the WE PAW Bloggers E-Zine

This e-zine is an umbrella online magazine for members of the Facebook group of the same name. All writers for this ezine are members of the group on Facebook. WE PAW Bloggers group is a writers forum — it is a family of writing creatives supporting one another through networking and reciprocal interaction on our journey of growth as writers.

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D. Denise Dianaty, Editor and Graphic Designer for the WE PAW Bloggers E-Zine. Administrator for the writers forum “WE PAW Bloggers” group on Facebook, owner/editor for the publication of the same name here on Medium. In addition to being a self-published author and poet, artist, art-photographer, and administrator of the group, Denise is a graphic designer with 25+ years experience, predominately in print media.

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Mason Bushell
WE PAW Bloggers

A prolific author with a demon on his shoulder and a head full of characters. Meet some of them at his menagerie.