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  • While living in the city, I would often walk in the graveyard nearby. I liked it for the lack of traffic, the history, the names of the people buried there. One of my favorities, for example, were the grave markers of a couple named Hervey and Sweetie.

    I am writing a story for Augusta called the Language of Flowers. Augusta was a young woman who died either on the eve of her wedding day or the morning of the big event. After arguing with her parents about her choice of husbands, she raced from the family home in Lancaster only to trip and fall down the stairs, breaking her neck.

    The statue, which probaly cost a small fortune in those days, is said to come alive on the anniversary of her death. She walks down the steps and through the cemetery, searching for her true love, the man she never had a chance to marry.

    After becoming acquainted with Augusta, I began to study the Victorian fascination with funery art. For example, a column cut in half, such as the one pictured here, symbolizes a life cut short. Augusta's column bears the cryptic inscription - Could Love Have Saved Her? In this same graveyard are markers fashioned to look like a real bed for a long repose. Victorians also saved the hair of the dearly departed and fashioned it into jewelry (this creeps me out a bit).

    When I told this tale to my father, his remark was - sounds like a guilty conscience. What if instead of tripping, Augusta was pushed? The story I am writing is set in the present day. A woman writer becomes fascinated with the story and the statue. As she begins to suspect foul play, she receives clues to the mystery from beyond. In the Victorian era, it was improper to speak of your emotions - however, every flower had a meaning and lovers would communicate their desire and declare their love through the flower choices they made. My ghost communicates with the living in the language of flowers.

    Unfinished - but perhaps will turn up here one day.
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