Free Nightfall Gardens by Allen Houston

lawn. Wisteria plants blossomed and scented the air. There were benches for contemplation under shaded cherry trees. At the far end of the lawn was the statue of a hooded figure that was corroded with age. Beyond that, the garden turned to other paths.
    “Silas,” Lily stepped from behind a tree. She was wearing a red dress that ran to her ankles and her hair was pulled up and tied with red poppies.
    “Lily, what are you doing here?” Silas asked. He stopped and took a step toward his sister.
    “I wanted to take a walk in the garden. Won’t you come with me? It’s so lovely in the shade,” Lily put out her hand for her brother. Her voice was oddly flat and emotionless.
    Silas started for her and remembered what Mr. Hawthorne told him.
    “Lily, is there something wrong? Why are you talking that way?”
    “Come walk with me where we can always be together,” Lily said, in the detached voice. She was standing as close to the path as she could without stepping on it. Her eyes flashed red and blue in the light. As he watched, her shape blurred and solidified.
    Silas backed away, his feet crunching upon the gravel of the path. “Lily? Who — who are you?”
    “Lily? Who— who are you?” the Lily-double mocked back. The voice was shrill and sounded nothing like his sister now. Her shape blurred again, and this time Silas saw a shadowy figure with claws for hands. When it shifted back to Lily, some pieces of her face weren’t where they should have been. One eye was higher than the other. Her jaw sagged.
    “Come walk with me. Come walk with me forever,” the figure shrieked as Silas fled down the path.
    His heart thudded in his chest and his nerves felt as if they were being pulled to the surface of his skin. ‘What was that thing?’ he thought. ‘How could it look like my sister?’
    Silas followed the path until it led out of the trees and manicured landscape and he came to a cottage and barn in the middle of a field. Behind them sat a hot house through which he could see the outlines of plants growing inside. Not far away, a wall of mist obscured the edge of a forest. He was coming up the walk when he heard beautiful singing from inside the barn.
    “Oh, one day, the darkness will go.
    Take away all our woes.
    Heavy burdens will be put down
    And Nightfall Gardens will fall to the ground!”
    He came to the entrance of the barn, just as the song ended. Inside, he saw empty horse stalls and a pen holding the fattest cow he’d ever seen. Hay and animal droppings were strewn about the floor. Pigeons cooed in the rafters overhead.
    “Hello?” he said. Silas looked about but saw no one inside.
    As if his voice were the cue, a girl jumped out of one of the stalls. He only had time to observe two things before something crashed down on his head, blinding him. She was wielding a pitchfork… and her skin was green.
    “Get him! Get him, Osbold,” the girl cried. Silas was turned and thrown into a railing. He struck it hard enough to crash through, landing in mud and slop. He reached up, feeling for the bucket that had been dropped on him. Before he could take it off, a foot smashed down on his hand.
    “Oh no, you don’t,” the girl said. “Watch him, Osbold. That’s a good boy. Keep your eyes on him.”
    “Cassandra?” Silas said, hoping he remembered Mr. Hawthorne’s daughter’s name.
    “Don’t start your devilry with me, spirit. How did you slip free of the garden?” the girl said, jabbing Silas with the pitchfork. He bit down to keep from screaming.
    “I’m Silas Blackwood,” he gasped, trying to swallow the pain. “Your father sent me for the spell toolbox.”
    “Blackwood?” The pressure lessened in his side. “We’ll find out about that soon enough.”
    The bucket was knocked from his head and Silas blinked in the light. Cassandra stood in front of him, pointing the pitchfork at him. Her skin was the green of ivy after a cool rain. Her jasmine eyes narrowed at him. Even her blond hair was