Blood Roses [LoE]

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, physical violence, mentions of gore, some light profanity

It’s like watching the opening scene of a horror movie. 

Dark crimson blood pours down the side of a tree trunk and falls onto white roses at its base like raindrops. They’re already completely doused in the distinctive liquid, and as more accumulates on them, the petals bend, and the blood falls into the once-green grass. The rest is a watercolor blur; the backdrop may be a forest. A strange darkness hangs over everything, and as much as I love the dark, it doesn’t improve anything.

It all looks so familiar, but I can’t remember a thing about it. 

What happened? Where is the blood coming from? Am I supposed to know?

I don’t think I have any repressed memories. Well, at least I thought I didn’t. 

“Vick.” 

Something sharp bounces off the back of my neck, and the unsettling scene vanishes in a blink. A second similar item flies into my face.

“What the fuck, Ocean?” I catch the object before it hits the ground. A paper crunches in my fist; its edges and creases cut into my skin. When I open my palm again, the crumpled paper seems like a paper airplane. Another lies next to my boot.

“Vick, you’ve been staring into space for twenty minutes,” Ocean retorts. “We also had construction paper,” she adds and holds up a stack of rainbow paper. 

“Yeah, real mature of you,” I sigh, snatching the other crumpled airplane off the floor and walking off to toss both in the trash. 

“In all seriousness, though, are you all right? I mean, this has to be the fifth time this week that’s happened,” Ocean calls. She turns to look at me as I glance over my shoulder.

“Everything’s fine,” I reply quickly. “You don’t need to worry about anything.” I throw both papers into the trash can and slam the lid.

“It’s not fine when your magic starts flickering like a damn candle.”

I freeze.

“What?” 

Ocean doesn't respond immediately. She mutters something to herself before she starts speaking again.

“Every time you space out like that, your magic flickers. Please don’t ask me why because I don’t know why. It stops when you stop spacing out.”

I haven’t a clue how to respond. I snap my magic to life to see for myself. The color is not as vibrant as normal, and the force there just some hours ago is considerably weaker. Ocean was right.

Why would my magic be flickering like that? Surely I’m not turning it on, am I?

Yet the only response I give is a simple “Oh.” 

“Yeah, you might want to keep an eye on that especially considering how often you screw up your magic,” Ocean calls back.

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. Ocean’s footsteps lead out and away from the room. I lean against the wall as my thoughts take over again. 

Blood on white roses. They have to mean something. They’ve been a haunting image in my mind for several weeks before this one, like an indescribable shape in the darkness, tormenting you because you both know you won’t do anything to them. But that’s the extent of what I know, and even then, some of my supposed understanding is simply a guess. 

———

Blood drowns the poor, innocent flowers in their dark, blurry form of hell. 

A waterfall of blood paints the tree a deeper shade of red than earlier and bends the flowers on their stems. Petals knocked from the roses lay soaked through with blood on the equally soaked grass; torn, dying petals on the forest floor, undeserving of a fate such as this.

Yes, it’s a forest, a forest cloaked by twilight, and more familiarity clicks in. 

It’s the forest I played in as a child. 

I get hit in the gut with nostalgia— the old trees miles high we threw water balloons from, the river no one was safe from being shoved into, the clearing we lit campfires in to toast marshmallows on hot summer nights; memories paint the darkness in nearly blinding bursts of color. Each new memory carries a sense of comfort and ease that’s eluded me long before now.

But the roses…

Beyond the colors and warmth of the memories before me, the bloody roses remain in my peripherals. Despite all the light in front of me, the shadows will still not fade. My thoughts track back to the roses, and the memories disappear into the twilight. A bitterly cold wind goes right through my clothes and cuts into my skin like a thousand daggers. The roses take center stage once again. 

Damn it, why won’t they go away? 

Snap.

The noise is like a gunshot in the deathly silence. 

“Who's there?” I yell, except no sounds escape my mouth. 

“Hello?” My mouth moves, but that is all. 

Snap.

Footsteps? 

Snap.

Pins and needles prick my body like TV static. I can’t move anything. I can’t force my arms out of place or turn my head to get those damned roses out of sight. I can’t say a word, and now I can hardly breathe! The air digs icy claws into my chest and seizes my lungs— do these roses bring death? Yet my eyes are still stuck on the white flowers turning crimson with the blood falling from the tree and, bloody Lucifer, why won’t they go away?! 

My breath comes in short, staccato-like bursts, sending icy clouds into the air. My thoughts blank out as lightheadedness sets in, and a dull pain fills my head. The scenery blurs once more, spins, and fades in and out of focus. All that’s left in view are crimson roses that taunt me, daring me to fight back when I’m dying like them, falling into an abyss like their petals. 

“You’re doomed, Radmier.”

A crash of thunder jolts me into reality. Multicolor dots dance in my eyesight as I gasp desperately for air, even while choking on it simultaneously. My vision flicks to black multiple times until I find my breathing closer to normal than before. I’m shaking– was I shaking before? Another crash of thunder draws my eyes to the open window allowing raindrops to fly inside my bedroom. I stand up to shut it but find myself clutching the windowsill and letting the cool drops bring me back to the real world. 

My breathing evens out, and the cloud of lightheadedness fades away as I regain oxygen. The dull pain has become a real headache. The world wobbles and distorts— it makes me nauseous. I close my eyes and clench my jaw, willing myself not to throw up. I hate how long it takes for the awful feeling to pass.

I sink to the floor and rest against the wall, letting the rain continue to spray me from the window.  

“I have to get back there,” I mutter, my voice sounding hoarse and dry. At least I can speak again.  

“Tomorrow,” I promise myself. “Tomorrow…” I slip back into a drowse.

———

The day passes by in a blur. 

“10:00, 10:01, 10:02…”

It’s been pouring rain since last night, and it hasn’t let up. Besides the numbers on the clock, the weather is the only thing I focus on as the hours drag on.

“11:27, 11:28, 11:29…”

Blood trickles down the trees through the windows. Raindrops spatter on the windows as more blood while I’m standing before them, expecting them to leak through the panes and soak the carpeting as it soaked the grass in the forest. 

“12:45, 12:46, 12:47…”

Flowers flicker to white in the daylight, sending chills down my spine. Some have shiny blood splatters that stain their petals crimson. 

“1:01, 1:02, 1:03…”

“You’re doomed, Radmier.”

That voice is coming for me. 

“1:15, 1:16, 1:17…”

“I think the cats are worried about you, love.”

“Huh–?”

Two small cats are by my feet— I hadn’t even noticed. Eclipse pads around my legs while Solstice curls up on the carpet. 

“1:18, 1:19…”

A hand covers my watch and gently pushes my hand down. I meet Chris’ worried eyes- I suppose my mask isn’t fooling him. 

“Just sit for a second,” he tells me quietly. 

I settle myself down on the dark carpet. Eclipse stares at me until I pick him up, set him down on my lap, and pet him. Chris sits down beside me and sighs.

“Victoria, are you all right? You don’t seem like yourself,” he asks.

“Just tired,” I mutter, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Nightmares?”

I nod.

“Do you want to talk about them?” Chris offers.

The living room is empty, and no sounds are coming from the surrounding rooms. With that in mind, I take a breath.

“Do you remember the forest back home? The one we played in as kids?” I lift my head slightly. 

“Of course. We practically lived there,” Chris answers with a smile, but it falters. “Is that where the nightmares took place?”

“Yeah, and they’re not just nightmares. There’s this repetitive, lucid vision, I suppose, of these bloody white roses in that forest. The blood pours down from this tree and drops the blood on the roses. I’ve never seen where the blood comes from, though,” I quickly add. 

Chris nods along to what I’m saying, seeming to understand what I’m talking about.

“I take it the nightmare was worse than normal?” He asks, to which I answer with a nod.

“Far worse.” 

Tears burn my eyes. I clench my jaw and turn away from Chris, debating whether to finish my explanation or leave it at that.  

“I’m going to go back.” The sentence is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Chris turns slightly to face me better.

“Back where?” He questions.

“Hell,” I sigh. “I’m going to go back to the forest.”

Chris answers immediately with, “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need to come with me. I just have to confirm that everything about those visions is fantasy.”

“If something goes wrong, I want to be there to help you.”

“If something goes wrong, I absolutely don’t want you there.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’d rather get killed up there than let you get hurt!”

We stare at each other for a moment. Chris takes my hands in his, his silver eyes serious.

“Let me come with you,” he pleads. “Trust me, Vicky.”

His hard gaze has mine in a chokehold. As much as I want to tell him no again, something in my mind yells the opposite. It tugs at me to let him come with me, and I hate it. Finally, I relent. 

“All right, I’ll let you come, but you need to follow my plan when we’re up there.”

Chris nods his head.

“When do we leave?”

———

“It’s bloody weird coming back here,” I mutter. 

My magic clears from teleporting, giving Chris and I a chance to take everything in. Several familiar buildings are still lining the streets, along with some newer ones that fit in like puzzle pieces. They’re busy with the realm’s supernaturals going in and out of them; there are a lot of kids running around, just like we all did years ago. The cool air is alive with magic, a feeling you can’t get anywhere on Earth.

“It’s like we never left,” Chris says, surveying the scenery.

I grin. “Welcome to Hell.”

———

“Huh, that’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

Chris points up at the dark sky. Following his direction, I figure out what he’s calling strange– a blood moon. 

“Is there a blood moon anywhere in your visions?” He asks me. 

“I don’t think so,” I reply, shaking my head, “but I couldn’t see past the foliage.”

“Oh, got it.” He brings his hand down. “It’s still strange, isn’t it? Typically, you see blood moons in winter, not mid-summer.”

“Maybe there was a change in space, one of the gods messing with the order of things or something. Remember when some of the constellations got knocked out of place when we were, what, eleven?”

Chris snickers. “How could I forget? That was a wild science lesson the rest of the week.”

The memory gets a giggle out of me as well. “Remember the newspapers humans were publishing? They were all concerned about aliens and shit,” I quickly add with more laughter.

“Yeah, all that panic about aliens while supernaturals make up a significant part of their realm’s population!” 

Now we’re both laughing like idiots. It's comical how easy it is to pick out humankind’s flaws and, even more so, how the jokes never get old. I only realize we’re at the forest’s entrance when Chris runs into a tree, where laughter kills my oxygen intake momentarily. 

“You’re an idiot!” I shout. My stomach aches from the laughter. Chris flips me off, but he’s still grinning. For a few minutes, I forget about the visions, but when my eyes go to the forest, that joy of forgetting fades away. Chris’s grin also drops, and he turns to face me.

“Okay, what’s the plan?”

“I’m going into the forest to look around for a few minutes. You’ll stand at the edge– so right around here –unless I call. If I find anything, I’ll probably call. If it’s nothing—” I shrug, “—then we’re getting food. Clear?”

“Clear, but couldn’t we get food in either situation?”

“We’re getting food regardless.”

“Got it. You’re sure you want to do this?”

I turn towards the dark opening of the forest, doubtful that I want to go through with this. I make myself take a deep breath.

“Yes.”

With that, I step onto the grass and into the forest’s shadows.

———

White roses.

On the opposite side of the river, an old oak tree stretches miles into the sky. At its base are a handful of white roses. I blink a few times and rub my eyes; the roses don’t disappear. They’re placed exactly like in the visions. The only difference is they’re untainted by blood. No blood runs down the trees and stains the roses crimson. 

“Maybe it was my imagination.”

I jog to the river’s edge, stopping just short of the cold, rushing water. It’s like I’m a child again who has to leap over the river as a dare. 

“Okay, bet!”

I take two steps back and jump for it.

“Easy!”

I crouch down and take the flowers in my hand. They’re real, all right, and not dripping blood– a huge relief. I stand up straight again and cup my hand to my mouth. 

“Love, come—!”

Pain explodes in my shoulder, catching me wildly off guard. I yelp in surprise and whip my head around to see what hit me. A black arrow goes through my shoulder and sticks out the other end, blood outlining the holes. An echo of malicious laughter makes me freeze. Slowly, I lift my head, and everything clicks.

“Shadow…” My heart stops.

The tall, dark entity leers as his ruby-red eyes scan me. 

“It seems you forgot a little detail about blood moons, Victoria.”

In the moonlight, something silver glints in his fist. When he raises it, I recognize the weapon: a spear.

“The barrier between the living and the unnatural is weakened.”

For a moment, he’s gone.

And in a whirlwind of horrifying pain, his spear stabs through my stomach. 

Another moment later, that spear tears through my chest and pins me to the top of the tree. The air’s icy claws seize my lungs as lightheadedness clouds my head. My throat burns with my screams and cries, but suddenly there’s no sound at all. As my vision fades in and out, my last gaze travels to the tree trunk. Dark crimson blood pours down the side and falls onto white roses at its base like raindrops. They’re already doused in the distinctive liquid, and as more accumulates, the petals bend, and the blood falls into the once-green grass. The river morphs into a waterfall, the blood knocking petals off their flowers to die on the forest floor, undeserving of a fate such as this. 

It’s like watching the opening scene of a horror movie.