The Momma Clan

In the heart of the English countryside lay Ashbourne Manor, a sprawling estate surrounded by lush, well-manicured gardens. It had been the pride of the Crawford family for generations, passed down through the centuries. But what gave Ashbourne Manor its allure was not its grand halls or elegant tapestries. No, it was the secret garden – rumoured to be cursed.

The secret garden was tucked away in the furthest corner of the estate, hidden behind a tall, wrought-iron gate covered in ivy. No one except the Crawfords was ever allowed to enter. And for good reason. Every few years, tragedy would strike someone who dared to cross its threshold. The locals avoided it, whispering tales of misfortune that had befallen those who ventured inside.

It was there, amidst the roses and climbing vines, that the body of Lord Edmund Crawford was found – face down in the pond, his eyes wide open in terror.

Detective Charlotte Weaver was called to the scene on a crisp autumn morning. She had dealt with her share of mysteries, but something about the circumstances surrounding Lord Crawford’s death felt off from the start. It wasn’t just the garden’s eerie reputation, but the way the body had been discovered – without a single mark on him, save for the pale look of horror etched across his face.

The Crawford family was in shock. Edmund’s wife, Lady Victoria, was inconsolable. Their daughter, Evelyn, pale and tight-lipped, spoke very little. The housekeeper, Mrs. Palmer, who had been with the family for decades, seemed to know more than she was letting on.

Charlotte began her investigation by studying the garden itself. Despite its beauty, there was a suffocating stillness to the place, as if the air were thick with untold stories. The pond where Edmund’s body was found reflected the dark clouds above, its surface unnaturally calm. Near the edge, Charlotte spotted something peculiar – an old locket, half-submerged in the mud. Inside was a photograph of a young woman, worn with age. This woman wasn’t anyone Charlotte had seen around Ashbourne Manor, which only deepened the mystery.

Her next stop was to interview the family. Lady Victoria was too distraught to speak, but Evelyn, though reserved, seemed oddly composed. She mentioned that her father had been spending a lot of time in the garden lately, working on a personal project. When Charlotte asked what that project was, Evelyn hesitated. 

“He was trying to unlock the family’s secrets,” Evelyn finally said. “He believed the garden held answers to our past. But I think… I think it drove him crazy”

Charlotte wasn’t convinced. Lord Crawford had been a rational man, a historian, known for his methodical research. What could have driven him to such craziness? She decided to question Mrs. Palmer next, the housekeeper who had been with the family longer than anyone.

Mrs. Palmer, though tight-lipped, revealed a critical piece of information: Lord Crawford had been fixated on an old family legend, one that involved his great-great-grandmother, Lillian Crawford. According to the legend, Lillian had vanished one night after entering the garden and was never seen again. Her disappearance had been whispered about in the family for years, but no one dared to investigate. Edmund, however, had become obsessed with finding out the truth.

That’s when Charlotte’s thoughts turned to the locket she had found in the garden. The photograph – could it be of Lillian Crawford? Had Edmund been digging into his family’s history only to uncover something that had cost him his life?

As she continued to investigate, Charlotte discovered an old journal hidden in Lord Crawford’s study. The pages were filled with his musings about the garden, theories about Lillian’s disappearance, and strange symbols he had found carved into the stones around the garden’s perimeter. The last entry was the most chilling: “The garden whispers to me. It calls me. Tomorrow, I will know the truth.”

The night before Edmund’s death, he had written those words. But what truth had he uncovered?

Charlotte decided to visit the garden alone after dark, retracing Edmund’s steps. Armed with the journal and a flashlight, she explored the stone carvings mentioned in the journal. They were old, almost ancient, with symbols that seemed out of place in an English manor. Suddenly, Charlotte heard a rustling in the bushes, followed by a faint whispering sound. Her heart raced. It was as if the garden itself was alive, watching her.

She pressed on, following the path to the pond. There, in the moonlight, she saw something moving in the water. But it wasn’t an animal. It was the figure of a woman, her long dress trailing behind her as she walked across the pond’s surface. Charlotte froze in place. The figure turned, and for a brief moment, Charlotte saw her face – the same face as the woman in the locket.

It was Lillian Crawford.

The apparition disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Charlotte shaken but resolute. There was more to this than just family legend. The garden had indeed been the site of something dark – something that had drawn Lord Crawford to his death.

In the following days, Charlotte uncovered the final piece of the puzzle. Edmund’s research had led him to discover that Lillian had been murdered by her own husband, Lord Henry Crawford, over a century ago. The secret had been buried – until Edmund began to uncover it. The curse of the garden wasn’t just a myth; it was real, born of blood and betrayal.

And now, it had claimed another victim.

As Charlotte closed the case, the Crawfords left Ashbourne Manor for good, unable to bear living in a place so haunted by their family’s past. The secret garden remained locked, its whispers silent – for now. But Charlotte knew that some things, once uncovered, never truly stayed buried. And the garden would always be waiting for its next victim.

-Dr. Arwa Saifi