Emily walked gingerly around the flower garden of her aunt Philippa, trying to brush against any of the rose bushes not to get tangled in their thorns, but as she passed through most of the garden she noticed something strange, a black rose bloomed at the exact middle of the neatly arranged graden.
She paused to inspect the rose for some moments, touched its velvety petals and knelt to smell it. She jumped back with a start, the smell was strange, intoxicating and made her a bit dizzy. She stood rocking on the balls of her feet for some moments, trying to find her equilibrium.
Finally, she took a deep breath and started to head to the house’s ornate French doors, her aunt must know more about the strange black rose, and she would explain to her how such an odd thing existed.
As she reached the threshold, a dark shadow passed over the entire garden and the house. Emily looked up to see if there was a plane or a dark cloud behind the shadow, but nothing was there. She shrugged and decided that the sun must have hit her eyes at a weird angle and this is what caused the strange shadow.
Emily knocked on the door and waited, her aunt should be on the phone at this time of the day, as she always was, planning some events with her friends from around the neighborhood. On January she had a charity event to gather money for the homeless, she brought a semi-known singer and had dish party at her backyard. If her garden was impressive, then her backyard was ten times more so, as it was huge and neatly arranged with tock formations and water ponds.
Then there was a meeting to welcome the new neighbors, another to celebrate the retirement of the usual mail man, and yet another because one her friends married for the seventh time.
Emily didn’t mind the activity, it eased her sensation of loneliness, and made the memories of her parents far easier to push down. It has been three years since they left this world, but she still felt the pain wrenching her heart whenever their names came in a conversation.
Philippa opened the door while she had the phone at her ear, chatting away in her usual jovial tones. Emily passed beside her and went directly to the kitchen, this was where her aunt’s base of operations and war room was.
Philippa finished the call and entered the kitchen. “So, how was school?”
“The usual.” Emily sat at a high bar stool and started to swing her legs. “By the way, what’s the story behind the black rose in the garden?”
“What black rose?” Philippa scrunched her face. “There is no such thing, not in my garden anyway.”
“Then how come I just touched, smelled, and almost picked the black rose?” Emily gave her aunt her usual face of disbelief, the one her aunt called the weasel’s pout.
“Emily, I know as a teenager I should warn you about some things.” Philippa leaned and held Emily’s shoulders. “But I assumed that you were wise enough not to have to tell you the obvious.” She took a deep breath. “Emily, are you on drugs honey?”
“What?!” Emily jumped off the stool, shaking her aunt’s hands from her shoulders. “You know I would never touch the stuff, not after what happened to my parents.”
“I know that you know how dangerous it could be.” Philippa sighed. “Still, I have to know if somebody slipped you anything or something like that.”
“You are infuriating.” Emily stormed out of the kitchen, to the living room, then through the door to the garden. She decided that if her aunt wanted to push this silly play on her, then she should just pluck the hideous rose and bring it back as proof.
She rushed through the garden and spotted the black rose and reached to pull it off its stem.
As she touched the stem a hand appeared from nowhere and grabbed hers. Emily tried to pull back, but the grip was too strong for her to escape. She looked up the length of the hand over the arm to a man of around his early twenties.
“Who the hell are you?” Emily squirmed to release her hand. “What the hell are you doing here in my aunt’s garden?” She grabbed his hand with her free hand and tried to pry off his fingers but it was like trying to peel layers of steel from each other. “Let go of my arm.”
“I am afraid I can’t do that.” The man reached with his other hand and grabbed Emily’s head pulling it down towards the black rose. “You are the witness, and you have to serve your function for the fates to unfold the oldest tale.”
“What?” Emily fought the man as hard as she could, but she couldn’t even help herself as she descended to the rose. As she struggled, she started to breathe deep the scent of the black rose, and as she did, her inhbitions and struggle started to wane, and eventully she just dropped her arm and let the man push her head deeper at the rose.
“Inhale the sacred scent.” The man whispered. “Take it all in and live through the darkest era of life, drink it and cherish it Emily, it would be your only solace on the days to come.”
If you liked this story, then check these other stories as well: All That Water, part 1, All That Water, Part 2, A company of two, The old Road, part 1, and Small Monster
If you wish to support our website and help us to keep it running to bring you new stories, please consider buying one of our books below: