Roses Are Dead, Violets Are Too

“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.”

“That’s not scary,” the boy said.

The little girl grunted in reply. “I hadn’t even got to the really scary part yet.”

“Well, I don’t think that would scare me either,” the boy said triumphantly. “Nothing scares me!” He really believed it.

“What about…” the girl purposefully trailed off, then pounced around right in front of his face, baring her teeth and stretching her hands up above her head. “A giant WEREWOLF, jumping out of these trees right now, ready to EAT you!”

The boy chuckled, swerved around her and continued walking along the dirt path through the woods. “There is no such thing as werewolves,” he said with assurance. “Like vampires, fire-breathing dragons and… and…” he racked his brain trying to think of another.

“Ghosts?”

He considered. “Maybe ghosts. I don’t know. But I am also not scared of them.”

“Why not?”

“Because they… are just… just… people… normal people. Why would I be scared of just normal people?”

The girl had caught back up to his side and was now fidgeting her hands. “Sometimes people can be scary.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had seen people in movies who were meant to be scary, but they weren’t real, that’s what his mum had told him. It was just make-believe, like the vampires and dragons. How could he be scared of something that wasn't real or couldn’t really happen?

The pair continued walking in what was now the last of the daylight. It was by far the latest he’d been out so far this holiday, which was completely by accident. He hadn’t realised how far into the woods he’d gone during the game of Manhunt with the other boys, and having strayed from any sort of path meant it was impossible to retrace his steps, which was why bumping into this little girl - also out here by herself - was a mighty stroke of good fortune. She knew the campsite he was staying at and also the quickest way back without traipsing through the trees and unpredictable undergrowth, which turned out to be taking longer than he had expected, but at least he’d enjoyed talking to her, this mysterious, messy-haired little girl, who hadn't yet given a reason as to why she also happened to be there.

She suddenly spoke up, like she was reading his thoughts. “Does it not scare you being separated from your friends in some woods you don’t know and being alone with a girl you don’t know?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t think you’re scary.”

She craned her neck upwards, as though she was only just realising the towering height of the trees all around them, blocking out most of the sky; the highest points rocking in the breeze which couldn’t be felt anywhere near as strongly down on the path.

“I bet I can scare you,” she said without looking around.

“OK.”

In a flash she was up in his face again, so close he could hear the air leaving and entering her nostrils, and he got a strong smell of damp dirt, as though she’d bathed herself in fresh soil. He spied twin slug-like marks about halfway down her neck that he was sure hadn’t been there before, standing out against skin that was ghostly pale, but it was her eyes that unnerved him most; dark, unreflective, like a chalkboard. Dead eyes. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t, almost hyponised by their lack of life. He blinked and then saw it - her skull, in all its curvy, contoured glory, like for a split-second her skin was see-through. He blinked again and her gloomy features reappeared.

“What happens when the world ends?” Her voice suddenly raspy and low. “What happens when time ends?”

He didn’t know whether she wanted him to answer, not that he could answer anyway, so he opened his mouth, discovering in the process it was bone dry, but she carried on: “When the last thing dies and… disappears, what then? Nothing and nothing and nothing and nothing for… eternity. Everything… dead. Everything… gone. Forever. Or does everything, does time, reset and start again and repeat for eternity, without us realising it? Is there nothing… or is it everything on a loop over and over and over again?”

Her dark eyes seemed to be blending into the shadows dominating her face. If he took a step back he was sure he would just be looking at - looking into - a grey mess.

“I… I don’t know,” he said at last when it was obvious she wasn’t continuing this time.

Her mouth curved into a sharp smile. The boy never again wanted to see a smile without eyes to accompany it. “I wasn’t thinking you would know,” she said. “No one can know. That’s why it’s so scary… the unknown end. Think about it.”

It was all he was now thinking about, no longer unsettled by these tricks of her appearance. Surely the end - as she put it - was hundreds of years away, maybe thousands, but that didn’t mean one of those outcomes that she spoke of could be avoided. Every passing minute was a minute closer to one of them - to nothing, or to everything all over again. Maybe that’s why people over the years - his mum, his teachers, his under-9s football coach - always said to make the most of everything, because they were scared of the end meaning nothing, and time had no reason to carry on.

Still smiling, she moved away and he saw both the colour return to her face and the light return to her eyes.

“OK,” he said as they started walking again, shoving both hands into the pockets of his camo shorts. “That is pretty scary. I don’t like to think about that.”

She just nodded in reply, then looked ahead. “We’re not far now.”

The path split and she guided them right. The boy didn’t feel like starting a new conversation and hoped she didn’t ask him anything else. His mind was now back with her spooky transformation and wondering if he’d just been seeing things, like that one time back home he was convinced he saw a cloaked figure dart across their back garden when he looked out before going to bed; he was so sure, then initially in denial when his mum - rolling her eyes - went out and retrieved an old, black bin bag from the side hedge. By morning he’d accepted it. There was always an explanation for strange happenings. But was that the case here? Could the little girl’s temporary change be explained?

As they continued walking, a few owl hoots and leaves rustling in the wind were the only noises that broke the silence. He could barely even hear his own footsteps on the soft ground. The drop in temperature was now so apparent with the sun having completely gone from the sky, leaving an almost smoky-looking ceiling above them, and he felt the chill on the bare lower half of his legs.

After another turning where the path seemed to stretch onwards in an endless, dark tree tunnel, the boy was about to ask if the girl really did know the way out, when she stopped and motioned them towards a gap in the trees on their left. Even though it was only a few steps from the path, a tall, panelled fence was completely hidden from view by the sheer density of the trees, apart from this particular gap, which the boy would’ve easily walked straight past if he hadn’t been with the girl, even in broad daylight.

She approached the fence and grasped the single panel preventing the makeshift path going any further and swung it to one side where it caught and held on a large, protruding nail.

“Through here,” she said, beckoning him to step forward and through. “It’s a shortcut that’ll bring us out right by the campsite main entrance.”

The boy hesitated, remembered he wasn’t scared of anything, then walked towards the gap, trying unsuccessfully to see what was on the other side. “How do you know about this? Is this where you live?”

“I used to.”

It wasn’t as tight a squeeze as he was expecting and they were no longer in the woods on the other side. Instead, all the boy saw was roses, hundreds of them in full bloom, phasing through the entire colour spectrum, growing from raised beds that lined either side of a narrow gravel path that continued dead straight towards a building in the distance. Most of the outer roses drooped into the pathway, making it appear even narrower and impossible to walk along without bumping into them. The girl had directed him into a garden, probably one of the biggest he’d ever been in.

“Come on,” she said, overtaking him. “It’s just the other side of the house up ahead.”

He set off a few paces behind her. “This garden is amazing,” he said, unable to hold back his thoughts any longer. After what felt like the best part of a week exploring nothing but trees, trees and more trees around the campsite, this was a refreshing change. “My grandma has lots of roses in her garden, but nowhere near this many!”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” she replied without looking around. She then held out both hands at either side and allowed them to brush against the petals as she walked past.

The boy stopped, scarcely believing what he was seeing. “Look,” he said, his voice shaking, the complete opposite to the boastful tone when he claimed he was scared of nothing. “Look.”

The girl just about heard and turned around. She didn’t need to ask or follow his pointing finger to know what he meant. She saw it all herself. The petals of every rose she had touched had crinkled up and discoloured to a decaying, pale brown, with many already falling to the gravel, crispy with blackened edges.

“What is it?” The boy said, barely above a whisper.

The girl turned her hands one way then the other in front of her as more and more petals and leaves of the roses closest to her began to drop off and land by her feet. She faced an untouched white rose off to her right, slowly moved one hand towards it and delicately brushed across the petals with her fingers. They immediately began to darken and shrivel up, and within seconds were also breaking from the stem head and floating down to the gravel, dead.

A bright light suddenly shot on from the building in the distance, followed by a clear shout of: “Who’s there!?”

The girl turned to the boy. “Run!”

He didn’t hesitate. He pivoted on one foot and sprinted for the fence, no idea if she was behind him or not, and almost dived through headfirst, somehow maintaining his footing upon passing through and continuing as fast as he could, powering along the wood path they’d previously been following, but soon not even knowing if he’d taken all the same turns. It was impossible to know in the dark. Regardless, he kept on going, terrified of stopping or glancing back. He ran until his legs burned, raging from his thighs, through his knees, to his heels, then he stopped, one hand up against a tree trunk for support, panting to catch his breath as his heart pounded, and pleading he’d done enough.

There was no one around him. He’d either outrun the girl or gone in a different - perhaps wrong - direction. Neither option was very comforting. Despite the girl’s unmistakable eeriness he felt so vulnerable without her. Maybe he was scared after all. Maybe…

“JOSH!” Came a shout, causing his whole body to jump, then freeze, as though he couldn’t be seen, heard or even smelled if he stayed perfectly still.

“JOSH!” There it was again, distressed and louder, like they were getting closer. “JOSH, ARE YOU THERE!?” It was coming from beyond the trees to his right, and he had no doubt anymore about who it was.

“MUM,” he called back. “I’M HERE.”

Silence.

“JOSH, IS THAT YOU?”

“YES, I’M COMING. I’M COMING. I’M…” he was running again, without even realising it, off the path and through the trees, dodging trunk after trunk and branch after branch; some he couldn’t avoid and took whacks to all parts of his body, and a couple of times almost losing his footing, but he kept going; he would endure anything right now if it meant being out and back to what he classed as safety. Every passing minute. Every passing minute.

He finally burst out of the trees and fell forward onto cool grass. A blurry orb of light in the distance to his left appeared to quickly magnify in size and intensity, then before he knew it his mum was upon him, throwing herself to her knees and wrapping her arms around him, flustered and squeezing him tight as she nuzzled into him.

“Josh! Oh, my… Josh!” She sobbed into his ear. “Thank God. Thank God you’re OK.” She pulled her head away, yet her eyes remained sternly focused on his. “Are you OK? Are you hurt?”

He was the most sweaty he’d been in a long while and was certain he’d picked up a few cuts and grazes on his arms and legs while running through the trees, but now he was here, he was as OK as he could be. He shook his head, then noticed more circles of light approaching, again growing larger and brighter.

His mum looked over her shoulder. “He’s here,” she said. “Josh is here. He’s… he’s OK. Oh, thank God.”

Josh was soon helped to his feet by people he didn’t know and a warm blanket was placed around his shoulders. His mum took his hand and they started walking along the outer edge of the woods back towards the main part of the campsite. He couldn’t stop himself from keeping glancing into the trees, where nothing but blackness now filled the gaps between the outermost branches. Was she still in there? Had she got away like he had? There didn’t appear to be any more distressed shouts of any names or flashlights sweeping the woods.

“Mum,” he said quietly. “Are they still looking for anybody else?”

She looked down at him. “No, thank God.” She squeezed his hand tighter and looked back ahead. “I’d have been scared enough knowing you were missing, but they… they found the bodies of a little girl and boy in an old abandoned cabin some way into the woods. A brother and a sister.” She paused and sniffed. “They’d only been missing since this morning. Whoever did it left a candle burning in the window like it was some sort of sacr… oh, Josh, why ever am I telling you this? I am just so, so glad you are safe and back with me. You have no idea how scared I was when we went to get you and the other boys and you weren’t with them, and they said they hadn’t found where you were hiding in the woods, then that search party found… found that little boy and… little girl… oh, my, it just doesn’t even bear thinking about.” She was crying again, but still looking straight ahead.

“Mum,” Josh said again, just as quietly as before. “What was the little girl called?”

“Cassie,” she said without hesitation. “Cassie Violets. Did you know her?”