Status: On the 14th of April 2013, I will be editing this story. Most chapters are subject to change, and some may be combined. Stay tuned for the remake.
Maleficent
The Blooming Blood Red Rose
The floorboards creaked beneath my weight as I tiptoed through the old abandoned house. Goose bumps prickled all over my body with each step I took, wincing at the sounds of my footsteps, and afraid that they would wake the slumbering house.
As I dove deeper into the house, I wondered for a moment, how the hell I’d come to be here. I could barely remember stepping through the unhinged picket fence, or climbed the few steps up to the porch. It was a blur, sinking into the abyss of a forgotten memory but I realised getting here wasn’t important. What I was doing in the house posed a new question.
The air in the house felt somewhat musty, yet dry at the same time. Dust had settled on every surface in the house, blanketing the interior in a sheet of grey snow and lining the webs hanging in the corners. The house looked as though it hadn’t been touched in decades, as though the owner’s had simply picked up and left. Furnishings decorated every inch of the expansive home, waiting in silent loneliness for its occupants to return.
A distinct breath drifted over the skin on the back of my neck, making me jump and whirl around to meet the unknown company. My brows only furrowed in confusion, unable to find anyone else in the room and only one set of footprints in the dust covered floor. My own.
This is the part in the movie where I would be screaming. Not in fear. But in complete and utter frustration at the weak pathetic girl strolling casually through the strangely abandoned home. My groans would erupt in fury whenever the damsel made the slightest sound, but as I shuffled through the home, I figured out it was actually difficult to refrain from calling out into the silence. To find someone home. Any sound to break the God awful eeriness.
I ignored the gut wrenching feeling that washed over me once I’d reached the staircase. I couldn’t see what was at the top, since the stairs switched directions halfway through, folding back over the room I’d just been in. Mould had filtered into the wood; I could only hope the stairs weren’t rotted enough to cave beneath my weight.
“Pull yourself together, Raven,” I murmured soundlessly to myself. Great. I was beginning the pep talk now. And I only did that when I was scared.
The further I travelled, the colder I seemed to get. By the time I reached the bedroom at the end of the hall, I was shivering. My teeth chattered violently against each other, I feared they would chip. My fingers were beginning to go numb, hurting slightly as I pressed them into my armpits. White mist floated out with my breath.
My feet guided me into the last room, stepping through the doorway slowly, giving my eyes enough time to give the room a once over before I delved deeper into it. It looked feminine, shaded a light pink and curtained off with a deep shade. A single bed decorated beautifully with a white floral frame was pushed up against the wall; a small mahogany writing desk opposite.
I couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped my lips.
This room. It felt so familiar. That unsettling tugging at a memory buried deep inside the recesses of my mind. I couldn’t get to it. But I had to. Something about this house was off. And it wasn’t the apparent suddenness of the occupant’s departure. Something had happened here, and I was surprised that I didn’t know what.
I could feel myself walk over to the desk, seemingly with a mind of their own as my fingers fumbled at the small knob on the drawer. Inside was a mirror framed in gold. The design weaved into the mirror was so intricate and beautifully captivating. It was a while before I managed to snap my eyes into focus. My thoughts puzzled over what I had seen in the mirror’s reflective surface.
My jaw tensed, my fingers wrapping tightly around the mirror as my gaze caught something else in the drawer. Reaching in, I pulled out a single red rose, my lips pulling down into a frown. A shiver wrestled through my body as I gazed at the unnatural sight of the flower, for it was the strangest part of the house I had seen so far.
In this house of the dead; the blood red rose bloomed.
As I dove deeper into the house, I wondered for a moment, how the hell I’d come to be here. I could barely remember stepping through the unhinged picket fence, or climbed the few steps up to the porch. It was a blur, sinking into the abyss of a forgotten memory but I realised getting here wasn’t important. What I was doing in the house posed a new question.
The air in the house felt somewhat musty, yet dry at the same time. Dust had settled on every surface in the house, blanketing the interior in a sheet of grey snow and lining the webs hanging in the corners. The house looked as though it hadn’t been touched in decades, as though the owner’s had simply picked up and left. Furnishings decorated every inch of the expansive home, waiting in silent loneliness for its occupants to return.
A distinct breath drifted over the skin on the back of my neck, making me jump and whirl around to meet the unknown company. My brows only furrowed in confusion, unable to find anyone else in the room and only one set of footprints in the dust covered floor. My own.
This is the part in the movie where I would be screaming. Not in fear. But in complete and utter frustration at the weak pathetic girl strolling casually through the strangely abandoned home. My groans would erupt in fury whenever the damsel made the slightest sound, but as I shuffled through the home, I figured out it was actually difficult to refrain from calling out into the silence. To find someone home. Any sound to break the God awful eeriness.
I ignored the gut wrenching feeling that washed over me once I’d reached the staircase. I couldn’t see what was at the top, since the stairs switched directions halfway through, folding back over the room I’d just been in. Mould had filtered into the wood; I could only hope the stairs weren’t rotted enough to cave beneath my weight.
“Pull yourself together, Raven,” I murmured soundlessly to myself. Great. I was beginning the pep talk now. And I only did that when I was scared.
The further I travelled, the colder I seemed to get. By the time I reached the bedroom at the end of the hall, I was shivering. My teeth chattered violently against each other, I feared they would chip. My fingers were beginning to go numb, hurting slightly as I pressed them into my armpits. White mist floated out with my breath.
My feet guided me into the last room, stepping through the doorway slowly, giving my eyes enough time to give the room a once over before I delved deeper into it. It looked feminine, shaded a light pink and curtained off with a deep shade. A single bed decorated beautifully with a white floral frame was pushed up against the wall; a small mahogany writing desk opposite.
I couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped my lips.
This room. It felt so familiar. That unsettling tugging at a memory buried deep inside the recesses of my mind. I couldn’t get to it. But I had to. Something about this house was off. And it wasn’t the apparent suddenness of the occupant’s departure. Something had happened here, and I was surprised that I didn’t know what.
I could feel myself walk over to the desk, seemingly with a mind of their own as my fingers fumbled at the small knob on the drawer. Inside was a mirror framed in gold. The design weaved into the mirror was so intricate and beautifully captivating. It was a while before I managed to snap my eyes into focus. My thoughts puzzled over what I had seen in the mirror’s reflective surface.
My jaw tensed, my fingers wrapping tightly around the mirror as my gaze caught something else in the drawer. Reaching in, I pulled out a single red rose, my lips pulling down into a frown. A shiver wrestled through my body as I gazed at the unnatural sight of the flower, for it was the strangest part of the house I had seen so far.
In this house of the dead; the blood red rose bloomed.
♠ ♠ ♠
Thoughts guys!!!