The Venedocia Cemetery

Down the road from Venedocia is the Venedocia Cemetery.

Some of the graves are 130 years old. There are three sections. The old section, the really old section, and the new-old section. 

In the old section lies a small stone that says HELEN 1893-1896. Behind it is the family stone of Jenkins. I have always felt a special attraction to the toddler that died so many years ago. I was ten years old at the time, and walking in the cemetery which was a nice hangout. 

Then I heard someone singing. It was a high-pitched, squeaky voice, though not unpleasant. I followed the voice into the grove of trees. A little girl, about three or four, was dancing in circles and singing a song in which words were not important. She had dark brown, curly hair, pulled back from her face. 

Her dress was white, spotless white, short-sleeved and trimmed with eyelet. It had a full skirt, and the child's feet were bare. I noticed immediately that her face was nearly as white as her dress and her brown eyes were a mite too big for them. 

Concerned at this small child alone at dusk, I walked over to her." What's your name?" She looked at me oddly and did not answer. "What's your name?" I asked again. This time she answered, and her voice was hoarse, not at all like her song. "Helen." "Where do you live?" Helen waved her arm vaguely to the south. "Over there." 

Suddenly she took off into the wooded creek at the side of the cemetery. For her size, she ran very fast and try as I might I could not catch up with her. As she ran down the bank, I lost sight of her. I trotted back up and into the grove, and I thought I saw her in the old section, by the Jenkins family stone. 

So I went over there and she was gone, and I found myself staring at that grave.

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