Clover is a spooky story about a group of children who are killed. Because all of them attend the same school, police believe that it is the work of a serial killer.
Recently, a number of murders have taken place in my neighborhood. There are rumors that it is the work of a serial killer. All of the victims were children and they all attended the same elementary school.
They were killed within days of each other and the crimes were very cruel and brutal. They were found in such a state of mutilation that their corpses were not fit to be seen. Each child had to be buried in a closed casket.
I knew the parents of one of the boys and had to attend the funeral and pay my respects. It was very sad and tragic. There were a lot of flowers placed on his grave. I noticed there was a large amount of clover.
When the funeral was over, I visited the graves of the other victims. I saw an old woman placing clover on their graves too. She must have been at least 80 years old and she seemed to be a kind and mild-mannered soul. With sad eyes, she quietly placed the clover next to each headstone with a gentle smile. Then, she made the sign of the cross, put her hands together and said a silent prayer. I wondered if one of the dead children was her grandchild.
As the old woman passed by, I said politely, “Do you mind if I ask you something? Why do you place clover on all of the graves?”
The old woman stopped and turned to me with a smile. “I always thought of clover as a happy flower,” she replied. “Also, it brings good luck. You see, my grandson died too…”
She had a pained expression on her face.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “He was one of the victims?”
“It was a separate incident,” she said. “It happened at school. He was bullied for a long time and, one day, they pushed him too far. One of the teachers noticed he was missing. They found him in the school toilets. He had hung himself…”
Tears were flowing down, the grandmother’s face and, unable to speak anymore, she turned and left.
That evening, I went home feeling very sorry for that gentle old grandmother. I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Something was troubling me.
I got up in the middle of the night and looked up the language of flowers in the dictionary.
It said clover was a symbol of revenge.