When the Black Roses Grow Read Free

at me and an evil smile spread across her lips as she tugged on James’s arm.
    “Perhaps, you will consider staying through the night?” Her words were more of a hinted statement than a question, as though he really would not hath the ability to refuse.
    My stomach churned at the thought of him snug in a bundling sack in her bed, wrapped neck to feet and sewn, so they may share a night together.
    Do not look after them, Emmalynn, do not look after them.
    I fought with my own counsel and wrapped my arms around my waist as I rocked my body back and forth. Unfortunately, my curiosity consumed me. All argument and reason against watching him stride away vanished.
    James glanced over his shoulder and our eyes locked.
    He smiled and I caught my breath, holding it while I clutched my throat with one hand and my chest with the other. Butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach as the young girl inside danced with joy, screaming with excitement as she bounced on her toes.
    He had noticed me before, but he has never smiled, not until now.
    He smiled at me.
    Elation burst through my veins. I covered my mouth to hide my own grin, a grin I thought not ever possible again, and I giggled a little to myself.
    Suddenly, a gust of wind circled and whirled around me, blowing my cotton dress, the strings of my bonnet, and my raven curls in different directions. Like a warm blanket, it pressed upon me, wrapping in a confining embrace.
    As abruptly as it flurried, the burst of breeze died and vanished. An odd movement fluttered in the corner of my eye, catching my attention. A vine sprouted, then began to grow and grow, and within the wink of a bat’s eye, it circled around itself until it formed a delicate wreath.
    I flung myself backwards upon my rump and kicked my feet.
    The vine did not sprout from the ground, but grew out of thin air and floated over to my mother’s headstone.
    From the vine, leaves sprang and bounced, followed by sharp thorns, and lastly flower buds that, within seconds of emerging, bloomed into perfect black roses. The allure of them mesmerized, and yet, terrified me.
    Before me, lay an enchantment not of this earth.
    No, Lord, please no. Tell me, I did not do this. Tell me I am not capable of this. Witches do not exist. They are not real. No one holds power like that. Witches do not exist.
    My hand slapped across my mouth, stifling my scream as I stumbled to my feet. My knees weak, I tripped over a rock and collapsed in the dirt before catching my balance. My eyes fixed upon the roses, floating innocently in the air.
    In my backwards haste, I bumped into the broken fence and the old splintered board jabbed my lower back, scratching the skin underneath my dress. Pain shot through my body and I whipped around to face the fence, nearly falling to my knees once more.
    The last remaining mourner visiting her peacefully resting loved one gaped as she watched me. She could not know the hallucination I had seen, could not know what occurred with the sudden gust of wind and inconceivable ring of black roses.
    Those that see hallucinations are those damned by the devil. Those that see hallucinations are witches, destined for a death sentence to rid the earth of their evil. Children of the possessed were not under suspicion, unless they showed the same behavior as their parents, so they spared my life months ago. I would not be, now, if someone had seen what I saw.
    “My apologies,” I whispered. “Please forgive my interruption.”
    I lowered my chin to my chest and hid my face behind my hand as I scurried passed her and fled the graveyard.
    The otherwise short destination to my home seemed to extend on for miles, worsened by my emotionally driven clumsy footing and wobbly legs. With my mind nothing more than a fuzzy mess of never ending questions and terrorizing thoughts, the concept of stepping one foot in front of the other, proved almost too foreign.
    Tears traced down my cheeks and stung my eyes, blurring my vision as my