Check back here on a regular basis to read some of the urban legends and stories being told around Saint Fleur!
The Founding of the City
Originally named Goose Point, Saint Fleur was founded in the 1820’s by a group of French settlers. The community did exceptionally well, better than many of the surrounding settlements, and attracted many to its fields and harbor, naturally transitioning from a small town to a major city.
Goose Point was renamed Saint Fleur in 1883 after the passing of its namesake, Mabel Fleur, the wife of the first mayor, Jacque Fleur. Mabel was well known by all within the settlement as a friend and counselor to any who were in need. While any mention of the word witchcraft would be vehemently denied by the citizens of Saint Fleur, Mabel had an uncanny precognition about events that were to happen that could impact the community. She helped steer the community away from chaos and destruction. It was through her guidance and kind nature that she received the nickname “Saint Fleur” and was even unofficially made the patron saint of Pointe Claire, the main church that the citizens attended. After her passing, citizens would swear they could still feel her presence in the church and the streets, and thus the city was renamed in her honor.
Anymore, only the oldest in the city still seem to know the tale of Saint Fleur. Many assume the city gained its name due to the unusual flowers that bloom at dusk that can be found on the beaches or in the woods.
Bloody Mary and the Mirrors
Every city seems to have its own variation of the “Bloody Mary” game, its own legends about it, and Saint Fleur is no different. Her Bloody Mary is Mary Stein, an immigrant who was brutally murdered in the basement bathroom of the train station in the 1930’s. Some sketches remain of the incident in the rarest of collections, so while the extent of her injuries is widely varied based upon the storyteller preferences, those few with the sketches know that her injuries were done in a very particular manner that weren’t likely just a crime of passion as the incident was reported.
Nowadays, teens and kids play the game. Go into a bathroom, turn the light off, look into the mirror, and say “Bloody Mary” three times. It’s all just a game to scare yourself, right? And very often it is.
But lately, there’s murmurings in the communities of Saint Fleur. Incidents that are being suppressed from the regular news. Rumors of insanity, of changing, of new deaths…
But those are just rumors, right?
The City Boundaries
Just outside of south Saint Fleur lies two neighborhoods that both seem to be shrouded in their own form of legend, and the two could not be more different from one another.
To the west lies an area only referred to as “The Outskirts”. Much of the farmland of Saint Fleur is here, with some of the houses and barns still being the originals from the Goose Point days. The landscape is picturesque with perfect, bountiful fields, babbling brooks, and shady trees. It’s the luckiest neighborhood, known for all of the worst types of weather just seeming to pass it by, and yet it is still sparsely populated, with more animals and crops than people by magnitudes.
As you walk the hiking trails to the east through the woods though, you can almost feel it as your feet leave The Outskirts and move into Warwick. The trees all look the same, nothing about the path changes, and yet the air feels hostile. Similarly sparsely populated, with only two major roads passing through the area and plenty of side roads that follow no rhyme or reason and end abruptly. More than one person has been lost in these woods to never be seen again.
Whispers in Pointe Claire
Pointe Claire often feels more like a castle than a church with its perch over the lake, gothic architecture, and impeccably manicured grounds. And that feeling is intentional.
It’s been a long time since Pointe Claire kept a consistent service schedule, instead the clergy there seemingly more focused on upkeeping and preserving the building. Frequently, one must merely step onto the grounds to be greeted by one of the members of the clergy, and visitors to the church never seem to be left alone.
A brazen few have snuck into the church grounds at night, and they all seem to come back with variations of the same story. Grounds that are dead silent regardless of the wind rushing from the lake, flowers blooming in moonlight, locked and barred doors, indecipherable whispers coming from the bell tower, and then… waking up in their own beds, as if it had all been a dream.
Any long time resident of Saint Fleur will tell you that not all fog in the city is created the same. Push harder about it and they’ll smile and change the topic, not wanting to look the fool for believing the superstitions and passing them on to their own children. But everyone once in a while you’ll find someone who will tell the story.
Every once in a while, the fog will come from the land within instead of from the lake. It’ll seem innocent enough, but it all seems to move with a purpose, as if it was being called to gather, to witness. They’ll warn you, if you see this fog somewhere you’re heading, don’t go there. The fog is a bad omen. It has never been called to witness something good.
The average person chuckles at this. It seems ridiculous, fog is just weather. Then, maybe one day, they see the fog themselves, see it moving unnaturally. Maybe the next day in the news they hear about a tragic accident, a suicide, a robbery gone wrong… or maybe they ignored the advice of the elder, and the fog was called to witness them instead.
Looking for Something?
While the police do their best to hide and suppress it, Saint Fleur does have quite the criminal underbelly in some areas. The oddest thing though is how it functions here and there.
More than one person has been aimlessly wondering the streets of Eldersburg at night, dealing with their own problems, to run into someone who seems to have exactly what they need. Maybe it’s drugs, maybe it’s a weapon, of maybe it’s the necklace their wife thought she lost in the lake two years back. Whatever it is, these unusual characters appear to have it. And they never accept upfront payment, instead implying it’s merely a favor. Please, go ahead and take it. They simply couldn’t accept anything from someone so clearly in need.
Perhaps though, you know what you’re looking for, and it’s hard to get your hands on. Maybe it’s the diary of an ancestor, an artifact that needs to be smuggled across the lake. If so, Hollis Crossroads is your best bet, as long as you can follow the clues to find the supplier and know the password. There’s rumors that more than one of the eclectic shops is just a front, but which shop it is always seems to change.