Stories From the Tea Realms - Blackberry

Once upon a time, or so the Mystics claim . . . .

When her feet touched the porch, the cicadas fell silent. 

Violet lowered her head; it had been like this ever since her daddy...died. Such a song of the South. She walked off the porch and into the front lawn that faced the cemetery across the street. Why won’t they come, she asked herself for the third time that day. Why won’t they come back? Violet thought about her mother, draped across the bed upstairs, with her bottle of gin sitting next to her. Always willing to help her when the darkness came. Always willing to be a friend. The cicadas began to sing again. Violet stared at the cemetery and waited. Her daddy didn’t die, she thought. At least, not by me. She took a step closer, followed by another, and another, then stopped again. The sun began its descent into the ground. Violet narrowed her eyes, in hopes that she wouldn't miss anything. 

"Violet!" screamed her mother from the house. "Violet!" Violet sighed; whenever her mother awoke from her gin stupor, she always returned to her nasty ways. No wonder Daddy . . . she shook her head. Not now. Please lord, not now. "Violet, I know you can hear me, girl! I see you out there!" Violet turned to find her mother halfway hanging out of her bedroom window. Her thick and unruly black hair blew around her puffy face, yet there was no wind. Her evil nature had a mind of its own. Violet glanced at the cemetery one last time, then raced back inside. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she reached for a full bottle of gin that sat waiting for her on a side table. 

"Coming, Mother," she said in a low tone as she started to climb the wooden stairs. When she reached her mother's room, she found her sitting by her bed, still dressed in her nightgown, and smoking one of her foul clove cigarettes. 

"Childe, childe," her mother purred, "bring that bottle over here. Be nice to your mother." Violet walked  toward her and handed her the bottle, then quickly stepped back. Her mother almost bit the top off the bottle as she quickly took a long pull from it, then set the bottle to the side. "So good, so good," she murmured as she leaned back in her chair and took a drag from her cigarette. "Why do you keep looking for him, Violet honey? Don't you know he's dead!"

"Mother, I have to wait," Violet replied in a calm tone. "The cicadas fall silent now."

Her mother looked her up and down, then leered. "You was always such a fey childe," she mumbled as the gin began its seduction. "Ain't never claimed you as mine, but I love you because HE did." She took another drag then blew it out in her daughter's face. "Go on and make me some dinner."

"What would you like?" Violet asked as she fanned the smoke from her face.

"Make me something nice, childe. Surprise me." Her mother cackled as the gin began to make love to body. Violet turned and left without a backward glance. When she reached the kitchen, she looked through the refrigerator and cupboard for something to prepare as dinner. She discovered some cold chicken and vegetables and decided to prepare a salad. As she made dinner, the cicadas began to chirp. Violet almost dropped a carrot as she froze in her tracks. She then ran outside into the night and saw a tall glowing being slowly walking from the cemetery toward their house. A familiar scent of  sun kissed blackberries floated by her nose; could it be? The figure came closer and closer; Violet smiled and began to cry.

"Now, are those tears for me?" asked her father as he raised his ghostly hands toward her. "I hope they're tears of love." Violet ran toward him, only to stop when her hands went right through him. "I'm beyond the realm of hugging, love," her father said sadly, "but I can still visit you." Violet returned inside as her father floated through the walls and followed her into the kitchen. 

"Remember when we used to drink blackberry tea and watched the sun set?" her father asked. "I can still taste it." Violet nodded as she wiped the tears off her face. 

"I . . was making dinner for Mother," she stammered then looked up at the ceiling. Her father looked up as well with his now pale blue green eyes. 

"She always wanted to die," her father said as he shook his head. "Still drinking, still wishing." Violet went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a large glass jar filled with their special blackberry tea. Her father watched as she prepared two cups, then slowly handed one to him.

"Can you drink this?" she asked him. She set the chipped cup on the table, then stood back as her father floated toward the cup. He placed a hand around the hot cup and then closed his eyes. Violet watched as the tea slowly disappeared. he removed his hand and smiled.

"Delicious as always," he said, just as her mother began to scream.

"Violet! Where is my DINNER?! Childe, I'm HUNGRY!" Violet looked at the half prepared food, then at her father with a helpless look. Her father then floated out of the room and up the stairs. Violet remained in the kitchen. Suddenly, her mother began to scream while heavy things fell to the floor with loud thuds. "Don't come near me, Thomas!" she yelled. "I watched you DIE! That . . . GIRL brought you back! Damn HER! Don't you come near ME! DON'T YOU DARE!" 

The house fell silent. Violet slowly sipped on her blackberry tea and waited. Several minutes later, her father floated into the kitchen. He stared at his daughter for a long minute, then floated out of the house. Violet counted to ten, then ran outside to see him floating toward the cemetery. Her father stopped by one of the trees, and there a second shorter glowing figure appeared. Violet stood on the porch and listened to the cicadas sing as the two glowing figures disappeared.

(Elmwood Cemetery - photo by Kimberly B. Richardson)