Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25170312-20151102215252

I posted a pasta in the WW previously called Dandelions, but this is a total rewrite (just in case you read it last time)

It was mid September when my wife, Diane, gave birth to our second child, a beautiful baby girl named Rose. She was so tiny, so delicate. I still remember seeing her face for the first time. That something so innocent and fragile could exist in this world, it was a life changing experience.

We took our precious gift home and placed her gently in the antique crib handed down to us from my wife's grandmother. As Rose looked up at us with curiousity and wonder, we all held hands -- me, my wife, and our eight year old son, Daniel.

Daniel had been acting a little strange ever since my wife got pregnant. He seemed upset when we told him he would be having a baby brother or sister. I figured it was because he wouldn't be an only child anymore, but now I know that wasn't the case.

Every day, Daniel would go alone to an enormous field of dandelions near our house. It was just down the road a ways, and we figured he was old enough to explore. Sometimes he would come home with a few spots of blood on his clothes. Apparantly, he was picking roses from Mrs. Waldorf's garden on the way to the dandelion field. Maybe that's why we ended up naming our daughter Rose.

I guess this is where I get into what happened. It's difficult to talk about, which is why I'm writing this. The day Rose was born, was also the day she died.

The sun was just starting to go down when I got home from work. Daniel was just getting back from the dandelion field. As we stepped into the kitchen, I heard Diane screaming from upstairs. I rushed to see what was wrong and found her in Rose's room, standing over the crib, holding our little girl.

I froze at first, then Daniel came in the room.

"Mom?" he whimpered. There was no reply. She just stood there trembling.

"Diane?" I was afraid to find out if Rose was injured or not. As I crept closer to the crib, I noticed the blood dripping onto the carpet. I looked to the precious little body in my wife's hands, then to the tiny head still resting on the pillow. Daniel shrieked in horror as Diane finally fainted, dropping Rose's body into the crib.

Not long after the funeral, there was an investigation to see if Diane and I somehow caused Rose's death, but nothing came of it. No one could explain how her head just suddenly detached from her body. We wanted answers but we were too distraught to do anything about it. It was a strange and immeasurably painful time.

A week after Rose's death, I went with Daniel to the dandelion field. I couldn't believe we had never gone together before; even Diane never went with him. I guess we were just so preoccupied with the pregnancy. God, how I wish I had gone with him earlier.

The field was gorgeous and peaceful. Daniel and I laid on our backs and watched the clouds, remarking on what we thought each one resembled. It was then that Daniel took a rose out of his vest pocket. I scolded him for picking Mrs. Waldorf's flowers again, but he said he had no choice. He then proceeded to prick the tip of his index finger.

"Daniel? What did you do that for?" I asked.

"I have to," he replied, looking shameful. I didn't understand. Next, he picked a dandelion.

Daniel placed his thumb under the head of the golden weed and sang a little ditty that even I remembered from my childhood.

"Mama had a baby and its head popped off!" With that, he flicked his thumb and the head of the dandelion flew into the air, landing on my forehead.

"Daniel!" I shouted, grabbing him by both arms and shaking him. "What the hell is wrong with you?! You know what happened to your sister! How could you be so inappropriate! Your mother would be sick if she saw you doing that!"

Daniel started to cry. "I have to, daddy. He said so!"

"He? Who's he?"

"The man!"

"What man?!" I was so furious, but even moreso I was concerned that my son may have been talking to strangers. I took a few deep breaths and tried to make Daniel calm down so I could get the whole story.

"Okay. Just tell from the beginning about this man. I promise I won't get upset again. I just want to know about this man, okay?"

Daniel nodded, then told me this story.

"I was just playing in the field, and this man came up to me and taught me how to do the thing with the dandelions. He said we could play together but that I couldn't tell anyone about it. Then he said that I had to do the thing with the dandelions every day and that I had to prick my finger with a thorn and squeeze a drop of blood on the dandelion before I did it. He said if I didn't do it every day that the spirit of the dandelion field would hurt my mommy and daddy. I was scared so I did it. Sometimes he came back to make sure I was still doing it."

I can't possibly describe how I felt in that moment. Part of me wanted to believe that he made the whole thing up because he was traumatized by Rose's death, but somethow I knew it was true.

"Daniel..." I said as calmly as I could, "When did you first meet this man?"

Daniel looked away as he counted on his fingers, then he turned to me and said, "I think it was... nine months ago." 