Gothic Story

It was a grey afternoon with a dull sky. The wind was sighing in the tree top and boughs moaned. The dark, ragged and ominous clouds drifted over. Surprisingly, instead of beating down a curtain of rain from heavens, it only brought drizzle. “I wish it would rain cats and dogs.” Sylvia talked to herself while she was sitting in a bus looking up to the eerie sky.
Sylvia was on the way to visit her father, alone. Her mom refused to go with her, she did not want to see him. They were divorced. Well, technically they were not. Her dad committed suicide before he signed divorce papers. He ended their marriage in his own way. At least there wasn’t fighting in the house any more. At least Sylvia was not an excuse for keeping two unmatched people
Sylvia stepped out of the bus, put on her hood, zipped up the black hoodie and walked toward the withered rusty gate which leads to a deserted path. Old, dark and carved gravestones guide the way throughout the graveyard. The mist surrounds everything just like a creepy spirit. She did not pay any attention to the surroundings. There was only one thing in her mind - to talk to her father. She missed him very much although he did not keep his promises. It had been a year since he left her. She arrived. He was lying there, underneath a gravestone which looked exactly the same as those behind it. Rows of tombstones stood in silence to its left and right, in front and behind, creating a sea of the dead. His is like a water drop in the
The daffodils covered the soil around a cracked gravestone, danced in the wind and brought out a fresh, sweet and inviting aroma. A cold breeze blew through Sylvia’s hair sweeping it into her face. She brushed it away to look up and read the name on the gravestone.
“Do you like those flowers?” A soft voice struck her ears before her eyes reached the name. It sounded from a distance yet at the same time it felt as though someone whispered in her ear. Sylvia got goose bumps straight up her back then looked around. There was a little girl sitting on the bench across from the gravestone, with a doll in hand.
The girl was wearing a sundress. Its light skirt flowed out above her knees showing of her tanned legs. She was a beautiful child. A pink silky ribbon embedded within the mop of golden curls covering her head, acting as a natural wig given to her by the almighty creator. Her bracelets matched her ivory skin perfectly. Her shoe was not anything a kid would wear. It was slightly-heeled and extremely thin. And yes, she only had one shoe on.
“Hey, there.” Sylvia broke the silence, smiled and said “You scared me, little one.”
“Do you like those flowers?” She