I’d like to thank Priceless Joy for nominating me for the Five Photos-Five stories challenge, where I post five photos, five stories, each day for five days. Unfortunately, I’m not very good at nominations, so my nomination’s an open-invitation to anyone who’s interested.
For Day 1, I took this photograph with my point-and-shoot camera last summer when the roses were blooming. Then I wrote a quick flash fiction about it, that’s what I did back then. I’d like to take this photo and revamp one of my short stories which I didn’t get to do on Friday. I hope you enjoy.
The Girl and Her Rose
Her neighbors call this her “Wicked Hour”. This is whenever she wears her pink floral design apron along with a pair of thick rubber gloves and goes into her garden. There, with a pair of garden shear, she snips off a single rose, pink on the outside, white in the middle. She would bring the rose to her nose and sniff, some says that afterward, a vicious grin would flash across her face and her eyes would glow red.
No one ever knows why or what happens to her with the rose. One thing they do know is that very same night, a gentleman will be invited in and he will never be seen or hear from again.
For the few that are seen again, people will say they are delusional and might even have them committed. Unfortunately, for those who have been committed, they tend to die mysteriously in the asylum, always in the most painful way possible. Either way, her quaint little cottage is known as a “no pass-by” zone. People will either turn back or they will run across the street for they do not want to be caught the girl and her rose.
“Ooh, tell us more.” Zachary said excitedly.
“Yeah, more.” Joey was practically jumping up and down his bed.
Emily sighed. Great, she thought telling a scary story might get the twins off to bed. She shook her head. “No way, Jose. You guys need to go to bed.”
“Awww…at least tell us what book that story’s from so we can go to the library and read it.” Zachary pleaded.
“It’s not from a book.” Emily said quickly. “It’s real.” The twins exchanged a quick glance and when they looked back at Emily, she was holding a rose, pink on the outside, white on the inside, just like the story. The twins screamed and hid under their covers. Emily grinned and thought, that’s how you end a story.