story Chapter 2

[matt_s]

Coupard nods in polite greeting and responds,

Good afternoon, Father. We are visitors from the City and would like to share a moment of your company and some conversation. The good townsfolk at the diner ensured we were well and properly fed and said we ought to see the old graveyard and pay you our best compliments. Well, here we are, and I hope we find you well. How are these parts nowadays? Everyone in town seemed to be in good spirits, but there was a bit of an edge of suspicion and wariness about a few folks if I am not mistaken. Something about these strange birds stirs up new caution, and old, old memories. I suppose you've seen those around as well? But whether these be good times or bad, they do hold their shepherd in high regard. 

If you are too busy or simply not inclined - it would be awful rude to impose - we could with your permission walk around the graveyard, but I think it would be edifying for us travelers to hear a bit of the town's history, old and new, as we walk around this hallowed place.

 

And what does bring you out here? I know a Priest must go where his flock does graze, but do you have ancestors here, or are you are "recent" arrival. In these older places in the world, I think even decades would count as recent...

 

[Sir Lazeabout]

Malcolm stands back, smiling, letting Coupard do the talking.

[Butchern]

On 12/19/2022 at 8:57 PM, matt_s said:

Good afternoon, Father. We are visitors from the City and would like to share a moment of your company and some conversation. The good townsfolk at the diner ensured we were well and properly fed and said we ought to see the old graveyard and pay you our best compliments. Well, here we are, and I hope we find you well.

"Good afternoon," Father Vincent said, trying to hide his surprise. "I'm good, thank you. Hope you are." He scratched his chin, and the after a second added, "Welcome to Ravenel."

 

On 12/19/2022 at 8:57 PM, matt_s said:

How are these parts nowadays? Everyone in town seemed to be in good spirits, but there was a bit of an edge of suspicion and wariness about a few folks if I am not mistaken. Something about these strange birds stirs up new caution, and old, old memories. I suppose you've seen those around as well? But whether these be good times or bad, they do hold their shepherd in high regard. 

"We're all good here," he said, sounding a little confused until the birds were mentioned. "Oh yes, those birds. Don't make too much of it. The town is incredibly superstitious. The birds are creepy, sure enough, but nothing to worry about. It's just . . . the timing. Weird things come in flocks like that, pun intended. Some people—not our people, of course—have been traipsing around the swamp at night singing. That's got people riled up too. Put everyone on edge about the birds and everything else." He shrugged. "World is filled with strange folks. And this isn't a good time for us . . . for my daughter and me. This is the anniversary of my wife's death and all." He sighed. "I say too much though. Sorry to burden you with our problems."

 

On 12/19/2022 at 8:57 PM, matt_s said:

If you are too busy or simply not inclined - it would be awful rude to impose - we could with your permission walk around the graveyard, but I think it would be edifying for us travelers to hear a bit of the town's history, old and new, as we walk around this hallowed place.

"I'm happy to talk more. Give me a minute to make myself presentable." He smoothed the front of his shirt with his hands. "I'll have my daughter, Emily, meet you in the graveyard. I'll join you shortly."

 

On 12/19/2022 at 8:57 PM, matt_s said:

And what does bring you out here? I know a Priest must go where his flock does graze, but do you have ancestors here, or are you are "recent" arrival. In these older places in the world, I think even decades would count as recent...

"Oh, I'm not a priest. Just a simple pastor. This hasn't been an Anglican church in decades. People here still call me 'father.' I can't get them to stop." He smiled. He didn't seem particularly bothered by it. "I've been in the Lowcountry my entire life, in Ravenel for about 15 years. Moved here right after Emma was born."

 

"Emma!" he called back into the house. Then to the investigators . . . "She'll meet you in the graveyard."

 

[Sir Lazeabout]

"Oh." Malcolm is a little unsure of what to make of the pastor's behaviour, but he tries to smile amiably. "Well... to the graveyard, then."

[matt_s]

We are sorry for your family's recent loss. One of our friends, a colleague of mine, recently passed as well. I would not have you regret sharing your burdens and sorrows. A man in your profession carries everyone's laments on their back, and should not pretend to be a iron anvil for the world's troubles.

 

People are singing in the swamp, you say? That is bizarre, is it some sort of juvenile prank? And what are they singing of, if you can make out any words? 

 

Coupard shrugs. Strange times are on the march, I suppose. Our thanks to you and your daughter for your kind offer of a tour of the graveyard.

 

And with that, Coupard will be happy to wait for the pastor and his daughter in the graveyard for them to begin.

[Butchern]

On 12/22/2022 at 4:31 PM, matt_s said:

We are sorry for your family's recent loss. One of our friends, a colleague of mine, recently passed as well. I would not have you regret sharing your burdens and sorrows. A man in your profession carries everyone's laments on their back, and should not pretend to be a iron anvil for the world's troubles.

"Thank you. That's kind of you to say." The pastor looked a little embarrassed at the kind words.

 

On 12/22/2022 at 4:31 PM, matt_s said:

People are singing in the swamp, you say? That is bizarre, is it some sort of juvenile prank? And what are they singing of, if you can make out any words?

"Surely it is a prank of some sort," the pastor said. "Everyone likes to play at the occult these days, pretend they are a part of some secret society. There is real danger in the occult practices," Father Vincent added quickly. "But the crazy kids these days know so little about their Bibles, they couldn't summon the Devil if he gave them a self-addressed envelope and a stamp."

 

The graveyard behind the parsonage stretched nearly a hundred yards back across a field and into the woods. It was sprawling but reasonably well-kept. The gravestones were laid out in bunches without much thought to traversing the graveyard, giving the whole thing a maze-like quality to anyone who didn't want to walk directly across the graves. The corner closest to the house contained the most recent gravestones. Most dated to the early 1900s. Some were memorial markers for those who died in the Great War. Some of the graves had proper headstones with a full name, date of birth, date of death, and a verse of Scripture or some lovely parting words. Some of the headstones were simply small granite markers that laid flat on the ground with a name and the year of the death.

 

"Hello!" The young woman who approached was the spitting image of her father. She looked to be in her late teens with red hair and a round face. She wore a simple cotton dress, a shawl across her shoulders, and boots on her feet for traipsing through a graveyard on a rainy afternoon. "Daddy is on his way. Was there something in particular you wanted to see?"

[matt_s]

Thank you kindly, and we appreciate you braving the rainy weather to show some strangers around. I am Coupard, and I work at the University in Charleston. And you are Emma, I presume? My companions can speak for themselves of course, but I'd find a simple run down of the area's history from past to present, as told by headstone, edifying. I think questions will arise as we go, perhaps.

 

Such a strange thing, to learn about the past from the markers of the very bodies that built it.

 

Coupard nods solemnly to a cluster of graves dated between 1917 and 1918. May gunfire never again haunt the green fields of France, he says. May the barbed wire rust away into nothingness, and may the trenches be vanquished by the plow.

 

The brief tribute finished, Coupard will follow Emma throughout the graveyard, focusing his questions on the 1890s period but interspersing with questions on other periods as well. Not that he did not trust Vincent and Emma, but caution was often rewarded.

[Sir Lazeabout]

"How do you do, madame?" Malcolm says politely. He follows along on the tour, trying to take note of any interesting grave stones - especially ones with some kind of bird or feather theme to them.

[Butchern]

17 minutes ago, Sir Lazeabout said:

"How do you do, madame?"

"Fine, sir. Hope y'all are well." She sounded well-spoken and very southern. Definitely a local.

 

On 12/24/2022 at 7:42 PM, matt_s said:

Thank you kindly, and we appreciate you braving the rainy weather to show some strangers around. I am Coupard, and I work at the University in Charleston. And you are Emma, I presume? My companions can speak for themselves of course, but I'd find a simple run down of the area's history from past to present, as told by headstone, edifying. I think questions will arise as we go, perhaps.

"Please to meet you both. I am Emma." She waved to and greeted the other investigators. "I'm not sure I could give you a history of the area, but I know the cemetery is laid out by age. We keep burying folks closer and closer to the church nowadays. And the woods have swallowed up some of the field . . ." She pointed to the woods that ran up along the back of the graveyard. "The oldest graves are back there in the woods. Not far in," she added for clarity. "Maybe twenty feet or so past the trees. I think we became an official town just before the Civil War. 1850-something-or-other. Still a part of the county too," she added, meaning Charleston County proper. "There is one grave back there from 1798 that you can still read the date on. People lived out here for generations before Ravenel became a town. Most of the oldest graves are gone now, lost to time and to Union occupation. Union soldiers tore up the church yard and burned the original church that was here. There's a bunch of graves from the earthquake," she said, most likely meaning the great earthquake of 1886. "But most are from the 1900s."

 

On 12/24/2022 at 7:42 PM, matt_s said:

The brief tribute finished, Coupard will follow Emma throughout the graveyard, focusing his questions on the 1890s period but interspersing with questions on other periods as well. Not that he did not trust Vincent and Emma, but caution was often rewarded.

Emma told them what she knew as they walked through the graveyard. Nothing jumped out at any of the investigators—nothing unusual and no bird iconography. Most of the gravestones were plain aside from Protestant crosses (which were very common) and the rarer masonic symbol. As they drew closer to the woods, there were more and more Confederate insignia on the headstones as well.

 

When the investigators were one or two rows of graves from the treeline, the death dates on the headstones dipped into the 1800s. Coupard and Malcolm identified seven gravestones from the 1890s, but there could have been more that had been lost to time or were buried under roots and brush. All seven graves were of young women, sixteen to eighteen years old. All died in the same year, 1891.

 

Just inside the woods, Emma took the investigators to a singular stone marker beside a large stump. The marker was warn and faded with time, but the date could clearly be seen: 1798. The name on the stone was "Martha." The last name was faded with wear and the corner of the stone that would have contained most of her surname was cracked and missing, but it began with a "W." Martha W. was identified as "Beloved Daughter" by those who survived her. She was born in 1791 and died in 1798. There was no Protestant iconography on this stone as was common on most of the others.

[matt_s]

Coupard followed Emma through the graveyard, listening attentively to her impromptu tour.

These graves dating to 1891 are a bit curious - all young women who died tragically young, all in the same year. Is there anything in local legend about that? If it is, I do not doubt it is a thoroughly unpleasant one.

 

And here we have a "Martha W.", last name cut short by the depredations of time. Is her gravestone the oldest marker in this plot? I know the 18th century were rough times, but confound it, seven is always far too young. And her birth year is a century before the spree of deaths we saw earlier. Coincidence, probably. Probably...

 

After observing some of the graves in silencing, jotting a few notes in his papers, and asking several irrelevant questions (Where did they quarry the stone? Was there an influx of Protestant immigrants or a spout of religious fervor at some point?) to attempt to mask the interest in the 1890s, Coupard will ask,

Your father mentioned something about weird singing in the woods. Seems strange - well, I was going to say "for a place like this" but it would be strange anywhere. What is the story on all that?

[Sir Lazeabout]

"Some folk religion, perhaps?" Malcolm says, hoping to spur an explanation from Emma. "They do have a tendency to spontaneously develop in these remote regions - some of their beliefs can be rather fascinating, if sometimes unsettling. The pastor didn't seem to think it was anything more than youthful folly, but then I expect young people wouldn't feel comfortable confiding in an established man of the cloth about things he must surely disapprove of... but perhaps they sometimes mention something to one closer to their own age, hmm?"

[Butchern]

On 12/27/2022 at 10:08 AM, matt_s said:

These graves dating to 1891 are a bit curious - all young women who died tragically young, all in the same year. Is there anything in local legend about that? If it is, I do not doubt it is a thoroughly unpleasant one.

"The Sad Sisters!" Emma said with energy. "That's what I call them. The legend is they all died by suicide. So tragic." Her voice was filled with awe and reverence as she spoke.

 

"Daddy says that's all nonsense. If they had died by their own hand, he says they would not have been buried in an Anglican graveyard. The 'almost-papists,' that's what he calls them, still believe suicide is a mortal sin. Until our denomination took over the church, visitors, non-whites, and those not in good standing with the church were carried up the road to Summerville to be buried."

 

On 12/27/2022 at 10:08 AM, matt_s said:

And here we have a "Martha W.", last name cut short by the depredations of time. Is her gravestone the oldest marker in this plot? I know the 18th century were rough times, but confound it, seven is always far too young. And her birth year is a century before the spree of deaths we saw earlier. Coincidence, probably. Probably...

"Yes," Emma continued, "This is the oldest stone with a readable date. No one knows anything about her."

 

On 12/27/2022 at 10:08 AM, matt_s said:

. . . weird singing in the woods. Seems strange - well, I was going to say "for a place like this" but it would be strange anywhere. What is the story on all that?

"I wouldn't know," Emma said. "I've never been out there to see. No one has, or so I'm told. Everyone is either too afraid to go see what it is or are convinced it is some sort of school prank and not worth the time. Daddy called the sheriff. Sheriff looked into it but didn't find anything. Daddy said it was most likely kids from the College who out ran him when he walked up on them, and he's too embarrassed to admit it."

 

6 hours ago, Sir Lazeabout said:

"Some folk religion, perhaps?" Malcolm says, hoping to spur an explanation from Emma. "They do have a tendency to spontaneously develop in these remote regions - some of their beliefs can be rather fascinating, if sometimes unsettling. The pastor didn't seem to think it was anything more than youthful folly, but then I expect young people wouldn't feel comfortable confiding in an established man of the cloth about things he must surely disapprove of... but perhaps they sometimes mention something to one closer to their own age, hmm?"

"Wouldn't that be interesting?" Emma said. "Nothing that interesting ever happens around here."

 

"What's interesting?" The pastor had finally arrived, looking much more put-together.

 

"Nothing, Daddy. Just talking about these old gravestones."

 

The pastor looked down at where they were standing and shot a disapproving look at Emma. She was stone-faced and did not respond.

 

"Anything else you'd like to take a look at?" The pastor asked.

 

 

 

 

[matt_s]

Coupard smiles in greeting as the pastor rejoins their motley assembly.

I suppose I am a bit interested in the religious history of the area. Emma mentioned how this used to be an Anglican Church, and how that means those deaths in 1891 could not have been suicides due to their doctrine if they are interred here.  That story seems bizarre, with no clear answer as to what actually happened, only that whatever it was must have hushed to some extent. Hardly blame 'em, its a horrible thing to have one's mind.

Unless there is something else you think a visitor would benefit from seeing - do not abstain from offering up sights and stories, as an academic I am curious and easily diverted to a fault - I think we will give you our best wishes and take our leave. Some of the folks we met in town recommended seeing the swamp, anywhere in particular worth starting out?

 

And with that, unless Malcolm or the pastor have any last questions or answers, he will wrap up their conversation, offer the appropriate farewells to the pastor and daughter, and take his leave.

[Butchern]

On 12/30/2022 at 6:28 PM, matt_s said:

That story seems bizarre, with no clear answer as to what actually happened, only that whatever it was must have hushed to some extent. Hardly blame 'em, its a horrible thing to have one's mind.

"Maybe," the pastor said. "It happened more than a generation ago, and the records from the church are all gone. When the Anglican congregation moved back to Charleston they took the records with them. There aren't any old timers here who actually know what happened, at least not that they've told me. The legend is they all died by . . . suicide." He struggled to get the word "suicide" out. "It was probably small pox, but you never know."

 

On 12/30/2022 at 6:28 PM, matt_s said:

Unless there is something else you think a visitor would benefit from seeing - do not abstain from offering up sights and stories, as an academic I am curious and easily diverted to a fault - I think we will give you our best wishes and take our leave. Some of the folks we met in town recommended seeing the swamp, anywhere in particular worth starting out?

The pastor and Emma shook everyone's hand. "I'm afraid there isn't much else to see here in Ravenel. But if you're still here on Sunday, we'd love to have you stop by the church. Our service is at 11am." Then he added, "If you do want to see the swamp, don't go out there at night without someone from around here to guide you. It's easy to get lost. The sheriff hates having to go traipsing around the swamp looking for city folk who wandered off."

 

[matt_s]

A hushed conversation with Maria led to a handgun passed discreetly to Coupard in the car. Coupard checked the chambers, ensured it was in good working order, and stowed it within his coat. Unsurprisingly, Maria had been fastidious in keeping the firearm clean and well oiled. The thing was as good as new.

 

They swung by the town to drop off Maria and Agnes at the local inn to procure rooms for the night, and then drove to the swamp. Coupard was not sure what they would find, or where they should even look, but a walk on the trails with eyes sharp couldn't go far wrong as a starting point. The noises were reported at night, so nothing bizarre was expected.

 

Coupard hadn't expected anything bizarre from Broder's last will and testament either.