The Flowers of New Orleans

In the Roth Mansion, there have always been a strict set of rules to follow. It's been our lifestyle, our history, our morals, our principles. But possibly for the first time in generations, or ever, the most important rule that we lived by was about to be broken.

Never leave the mansion.

And for the first time in my ten years of life, I was going to step outside the mansion.

I am Azalea Charles Roth, one of the youngest, currently living members of the Roth family, and the great, great, great granddaughter of Charles Lee Roth.

I tiptoed down the grand staircase, which was covered in a rough, ugly red carpet that was dusty and reeked of something foul. It was strange. My grandmothers and grandfathers, all the way back to great, great, great grandmother Greta, told us to never go on the staircase that led to the first floor. But the staircase was so open, so defenseless. Someone could graze the top step and nobody would ever know.

As quiet as a mouse, I peeked around the corner, searching for any suspecting servants or associates of my great, great, great grandfather. We were always warned to never go to the first floor, or we were to expect some severe punishment.

From what I heard from my cousin, Wisteria, those who went to the first floor were either severely crippled or killed in punishment. According to her, there's supposed to be more of us. She said that she suspected that the Roth family has had more than thirty or forty members living at one time, but the number had been cut to twenty-five, with a twenty-sixth on the way.

I hoped that those rumors weren't true.

In the dark of night, I cautiously placed my bare right foot on the carpet of the first floor.

With no idea of what the first floor consisted of, I kept my body pressed against the walls and shrunk into the cobweb-covered corners as I searched for an exit.

Never go to the first floor.

The voices of other Roth family members echoed in my head, shaking me to my core as I second-guessed my decision. Maybe I should just run back upstairs to my room, go to bed, and pretend that I never tried this.

But at the same time, what was outside of this house?

All that was here were old journals that my Charles Lee Roth wrote himself, the only books that we were free to read. The films we watched were black and white and boring, the only one that I liked was The Wizard of Oz. Music that we listened to only consisted of jazz and classical played on the gramophone.

We couldn't go outside. We couldn't open windows, they were barred and locked tightly shut. We couldn't talk with any of the servants, they had their tongues cut out. We couldn't even be in the halls for too long, there was a mad woman prowling the halls, my grandmother Glory. According to family rumor, she had broken one of the rules and was punished so badly that she was driven mad. She now lives in the halls, which acts like an infinite labyrinth to trap her inside, a blood-thirsty Minotaur.

After what felt like hours or days of looking, searching for an exit or the front door to escape, I began to wonder if either of my great, great, great grandparents were aware. Maybe it has been many days, but the servants have kept the curtains drawn to distort my sense of time.

Then, suddenly, directly in front of me were huge double doors.

I knew, somehow, that these were the front doors of the mansion.

Never leave the mansion.

I placed a deformed, ghostly pale hand on the gold handle, gripping it as firmly as I could, but my twig-like arms weren't doing me justice.

Never leave the mansion.

I pulled the door, a crack of pure, raw moonlight leaking into the house.

Never leave the mansion.

I pulled the door more, prying it open to allow more of the light inside this dark, old, suffocating place.

Never leave the mansion.

Then, I stepped into the light, and to the edge of the doorway.

The moonlight felt calm, barely warm against my bare legs and arms. Even though my dress, I could feel it. A quiet, tropical draft wafted into the house, suddenly sending shivers up my spine.

So this is what wind feels like?

I then looked down at my feet, where they just barely touched the rotted, wood steps that led down to the solid ground, which had emerald grass sprouting from it. From here, I was unsure if the grass was soft or sharp like blades. Is that why they call it "blades of grass"?

I then took the first step down, out of the mansion.

With my whole body out, I suddenly felt this sense of freedom that I've never felt before. But at the same time, I could feel something in me being pulled taught, and pulling me towards the mansion, beckoning me to go back inside.

When they find out, they'll kill you. If you go inside now and go back to bed, no one ever has to know that you did this.

Wisteria. Peri. Winkle. Bane. Trumpet. Narcissus. I would be leaving all of them behind, along with countless other distant relatives. Once they realize what I've done, they'll never forgive me.

Was the Outside worth more than all of them?

God's fist will fall from the sky, and deliver your eternal fate. You will be dead before you even realize it, and your body will be reduced to nothing.

Today was August 27th, 1945.

And for the first time in my ten years of life, I was going to see the Outside.

I quietly closed the door behind me, and crept down the steps, and then placed my foot on the bare ground.

The grass was wet and soft.

Then, I began to walk from the mansion, the pulling sensation in my back getting tighter and tighter, telling me, Once you are out there, you can never come back.

Then, it snapped.

And like a bullet out of a gun, I began to sprint into the woods surrounding the mansion.

Was it truly this easy?

My body barely disturbed the area as I dug the balls of my feet into the sandy earth, and launched myself farther and farther into the unknown Outside.

The trees were taller than I thought. The flowers were more vibrant. The sand was softer. The air was rich and light and completely void of dust or grim. The sea, just barely within arms reach, was more endless and blue than I ever imagined.

In an instant, I was standing at the seashore, gazing at the endless ocean, that stretched on and on to the ends of the earth. Was there really land, somewhere out there? A land where you could be Outside whenever you wanted? Where you could be with anyone you wanted? That allowed you to feel the sun's warmth on your bare skin?

Then, for a moment, I questioned if I was hearing this buzzing in my ear. But it got louder, and louder, and louder.

Oh god, oh no. God is going to kill me. He's going to crush me. I'm going to die.

I was already dead. I had to be. Great, great, great grandmother was right.

Then, I spotted something in the sky that the noise was resonating from. It was strange. It flew like a bird, but didn't have wings. It almost looked motionless in the air. But I looked closely, and I could barely see the form of rapidly spinning propellers on top of the strange being.

What in the world was that?

It flew past me, along with a few more, and then hovered above the mansion. With a loud click, blindingly bright lights illuminated the mansion, likely waking up everyone in an instant.

"Come out with your hands in the air!" I heard, a male voice that was so incredibly loud.

What was going on? What was happening?

Then, bright lights struck my form on that beach, and large boats approached the shore at high speed with blue and red lights on top. I backed away, questioning if I should run away or scream. Maybe both.

When the boats stopped, dozens of uniformed men and women hopped out and sprinted down the beach, a few approaching me.

I began to hyperventilate as they began to pummel me with questions, beeping and sirens and flashing lights resonating from their bodies and the boats and the flying objects. Who were they? What's going on?

My breaths became quick and shallow, and I began to back away in fear as my lips trembled. I tried to give answers, but I was so petrified and confused that I couldn't speak or do anything.

Then, one of them grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the boats.

Never leave the mansion.

Externally, I was compliant and obedient, the way I always have been. But internally, I was frantically trying to figure out what to do. I never should've left. Narcissus would've known what to do.

Then, I was in a small, windowed room with a wool blanket around my shoulders and a cup of something hot in a mug in both of my hands that was likely coffee, but it smelled sweet.

I felt detached. My body was in the present but my mind was somewhere else. It was back when I was still in the mansion, running with Wisteria and Bane and the others from a hysteric Glory as she chased us, screaming and howling. Like it was some game.

From outside the boat, I could hear screaming, and then gunshot.

It dawned on me who that was, and my eyes grew wide.

"What is your name?"

A man stood before me, wearing a dark blue uniform with a cap, a device hooked to his belt that had a small flashing red light, and a young face that looked calm at a glance but had eyes that were wild with fear and shock and adrenaline.

"Azalea... Azalea Charles Roth." I managed to say, my throat tight.

"Azalea..." The man mumbled to himself, repeating the name a few times to memorize it. "Just stay where you are and stay calm. Trust me, you're in good hands."

The man left, and I then took my time taking in my surroundings. From the front of the boat, I could hear beeping and clicks. The seat beneath me was wooden and smooth. The ceiling was a little low. A large box-like object was resting on the bench across from me, and out of curiosity I reached towards it to examine it. There was a switch on top by two antennas, and despite my better judgement I flipped it, and the box made several static noises before a lively voice filled the room.

"Good morning America! Today in good ol' Louisiana, it is December 5th, 2044."