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Lavander: urban Legend

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So here is my 1st submission for my very first contest! ( which i will be submitting to both of the contest :iconlisajen-stock: and to :iconsammykaye1:)


Thanks for the stock goes to!!!!

Background: :iconzaiyned-stock:
original picture : [link]

Old Shack: :icontammysue:
original picture :
[link]

candle: :iconmyhazeyclarity-stock:
original picture :
[link]
( note: it's in the window when i started but when i made the picture smaller it disappared in there, just wanted to make sure to give credit to you though because i did use it!)

window: :iconstock-it:
original picture :
[link]

female model: :iconlisajen-stock:
original picture:
[link]


Heres the story that goes along with it.

Thirty Chilling Tales Short& Shivery
Retold by Robert D. San Souci
Illustrated by Katherine Coville

(Note on the Source)
Lavender. This popular American ghost story pops up in versions all across the United States, From New Jersey to California. A prime example of "urban Folklore, " the events are frequently presented as having happend to someone the storyteller has known personally.



Lavander ( Unitied States)

Not so long ago, two college freshmen were driving along the road one evening on their way to a dance at the neighboring women's college. Bill, who owned the sleek red convertible , was driving slowly because the road was unfamiliar. Eric, who had a road map unfolded over his lap, said, 'We're sure not on the highway any longer. We made a wrong turn back there somewhere."
"You're one lousy navigator," laughed bill, but "what the heck! We're taking the scenic route."
"Yeah, " Eric responded, not to enthusiastically,"but I'd just as soon get off this road before it gets too dark." He looked under the trees on either side of the road.
"Hold on!" cried bill, slamming his foot on the brake. "I think our luck just changed for the better!" He pointed through the windshield to where a slim young woman stood by the side of the road, flagging them down. In the half-light of evening, they could see she was wearing an old-fashioned lavender dress. Since so many of the women they knew wore old-style clothes they had bought at thrift shops or antique stores, the young men saw nothing unusual in the way the girl dressed.
Bill brought the car to a halt on the dusty shoulder of the road. " Need a lift?" he called to the attractive young woman.
"I'm going to a dance at Gabriel College," she answered. "I'd appreciate a ride."
"We're going there ourselves," said Bill. "Why don't you hop in and come with us?"
"I believe I will," she said and smiled, climbing into the back seat of the car, while Eric held the door open for her. He was struck by how pale her face was, and how cold her hand felt when it brushed his. There was a faint fragrance of lavender that clung to her, which reminded Eric of his grandmother. But all he said was, "We're lost: I'm the world's worst navigator."
"That's fixed easily enough,"their passenger said. Then she gave them careful directions that soon guided them back to the main highway. The three young people talked and joked all the way to Gabriel College. Eric forgot his uneasiness and cracked awful jokes that had bill groaning. But the young woman in the back seat laughed as though he were the world's greatest comedian.
As they were pulling into the parking lot at the college, Bill suddenly said, "Say , we don't even known your name,"
"Oh," she laughed, "just call me 'Lavender,' since that's my favorite color." Then she pushed open the door of the car and climbed out. The music of drums and guitars thrummed across the parking lot. "Hurry," she pleaded, holding a hand out to Bill and Eric, "I don't want to miss a moment of this night!"
Bill took her right hand and Eric, her left. The three of them ran like small children toward the bright lights and loud music.
Inside, while Eric watched Lavender dance with Bill, he thought, I could fall in love with someone like her. Then he felt himself blushing, because he'd never felt that way about anyone before. And, he reminded himself, you don't even known her name. But the mystery that clung to her like the fragrance of lavender only made her seem like much more alluring. Then it struck him, I'm already in love with yher. Watching Bill on the dance floor with the beautiful, lavender-gowned girl, he guessed that Bill was falling in love with her, too.
How he would sort this out with his best friend was anybody's guess. But "Lavender" was worth it - of that he had no doubt.
When the dance ended, Bill suggested they go someplace for coffee; but the girl only said, "I have to go home." To Eric, she sounded very, very tired.
Bill protested this, but she simply said, "Please. I have to go home." Something in her voice left no room for further argument.
As they crossed the parking lot, she began to shiver. Eric gallantly gave her his sportcoat, and she gratefully wrapped it around her shoulders. But she seemed to shiver just as much. He was tempted to put his arm around her, but something about her made him hold back-for all he cursed himself for being a shy fool.

It was very late when they left the highway and started up the side road where they had first met "Lavender."
With an odd, faraway sound in her voice, she directed them to a run-down shack way at the end of a rutted dirt road. There was a single light burning in the one window.
When Eric and Bill offered to walk her to the door, she said quickly, "No, I have to go alone!" Again her tone of voice stopped their objections cold.
She waved once- a graceful lavender shadow in the mingled moonlight and a starlight-then hurried toward the lighted window like a moth drawn to a flame. With a sigh Bill popped the car into reverse and headed back down the driveway.

It wasn't until they were almost back to their own campus that Eric said, "Hey! She never gave me back my jacket."
"I wondered when you'd notice." chuckled Bill.
"Why didn't you say something?"Eric demanded.
"Don't worry," laughed Bill, " this gives us an excuse to go back tomorrow, find out her real name, and get to know our mysterious 'Lavender' better."
"Oh yeah," said Eric, eager for a chance to see the young woman again.

Shortly after noon the next day, Bill and Eric Drove up to the cabin at the end of the rutted road. They had to knock several times before a very old woman in a faded house-dress answered. She glanced from one to the other with watery eyes.
"We've, um, come to see a young lady who calls herself 'Lavender,'" Bill explained.
The old woman shock her head. "I don't know anybody named 'Lavender,'" she said.
But when Eric described the young woman they had met on the road the evening before, she suddenly pressed trembling finders to her mouth and whispered, "That was Lily."
"So, where is she?" Bill wanted to know.
"She's been dead for many years," said the old women, wiping a tear away from her eye. " Lilly was my daughter, but she died in a car accident on her way to a dance. She's buried in the cemetery two miles down the road." The woman gave a sigh and dabbed at her eye with a crumpled kleenex. "Your not the first to see her: she often tries to come home.I leave a light burning all night, every night, just hoping some night she'll make it all the way back to me. But that's never happened,"
"But-" Eric started to say.
Bill grabbed him by the arm and steered him back to the car. When he had pushed his friend into the front seat and started the engine, Bill said, "Don't you see?It's a joke . She doesn't want to see us anymore, so she put the old woman up to telling that shorty. We've just been given a brush-off, so let's forget the whole thing, "
"But my coat. . ."
" You needed a new one, anyway," said Bill. "I'm not going back to that dump ever again . I know when I've been had!"
They drove for a while in silence. Suddenly Eric shouted,
"Stop!Pull over!"
Startled, Bill did as his friend said, bringing the car to a halt outside the wall of a small country cemetery. Before Bill could stop him, Eric had leapt out of the car and run through the rusted iron gates that hung ajar. With a soft curse, Bill shut off the engine and climbed out.
He caught up with Eric as his friend was walking up and down rows of gravestones, reading each.
Abruptly Eric Stopped, pointing at a small, white gravestone.
"What. . . ?" Bill began, then fell silent.
Engraved on the tombstone was the name "Lily Abbott. The dates inscribed showed that the woman had died more than thirty years before. Lying neatly folded on the grass below the stone was Eric's sport coat.
"It's a trick," Bill said weakly.
But neither one of them believed it.
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© 2008 - 2024 celticice
Comments11
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BetterIfIStay09's avatar
i love that story. its a classic and never gets old. ht epictures a greta depiction of it, too ^.^