Prologue
Would you bring me a rose, Father? His daughter Isabelle's words echoed in his ears, suddenly reminding him he had forgotten all about it.
Guilty, he pulled his phone from the passenger's seat to search for the nearest store. He let his attention drift away from the road, it was late at night and nobody was on this country road but him, and onto his phone.
It had been a gift to him from his daughters and while he appreciated the gesture, he still had more than a few problems figuring out how to operate the damn thing.
Searching through the menu options, he finally found the map application and slowly input his query. Results zinged on the screen immediately, arranged by distance. Luckily the first search result was only two or three miles off. He set it as his destination and turned the navigation on. Grudgingly, he acknowledged –if only to himself – that perhaps the annoying device wasn't such a bad thing after all.
The phone chirped out directions, leading him down desolate roads that wound this way and that, making it impossible to remember the way back.
"You have arrived." The device informed him happily.
Maurice cursed violently, red splotches appearing on his cheeks. He had not arrived anywhere but a stately home with a lush green yard and perfectly trimmed trees. It was out of place in the overgrown wilderness that loomed threateningly over the estate.
Programming his original route back into the phone, Isabelle's gift be damned, he set his car into drive, intent on getting back to civilization. This fruitless detour served only to delay him, he'd need to stay in a motel tonight and take off early the next morning.
The car shuddered violently a few times and shut off, continuing its forward movement. Maurice quickly stepped on the breaks and put it in park. He turned the key in the ignition and was rewarded with a harsh whine.
Ten minutes and numerous attempts later, Maurice gave up, defeated. The world was conspiring against him. What else could explain this string of rotten luck? He couldn't even call for help, his expensive phone had no service.
Maurice's only option lay with the house. He made his way up the curved driveway apprehensively. The sheer size of the house and the meticulous upkeep oozed wealth but its remote location was suspicious. Why keep such a magnificent house in excellent conditions if there was no one to see?
With every step, his exhaustion caught up to him. By the time he reached the house Maurice felt ready to collapse into a deep sleep.
He stood before a pair of enormous wooden doors, steeling himself before ringing the doorbell.
No one came to answer the door; the house remained as quiet as ever. He rang again. Still nothing. Annoyed, Maurice lifted a fist and pounded on the door. Certainly the occupant of the house would hear that.
To his surprise the door fell open at his touch, revealing a glimpse of the home's interior.
It gleamed pure white. The grand room had ivory colored walls with an intricate pattern embossed onto the wallpaper. An old-fashioned staircase led straight up, splitting in two, one ascending left and the other to the right. They met at a magnificent balcony that, Maurice was sure, provided a stunning view.
Despite the obvious attention taken to decorate the room, it was strangely bare. Only a lone circular table stood in the middle, bravely holding its own against the overwhelming starkness.
Maurice felt drawn to the table and as he approached he noticed the envelope set on the surface.
His blood chilled.
In neat black type it was addressed to one Maurice Linton.
The letter inside, which he read with quivering hands, instructed him to a room off the main entrance where he could stay until the morning.
Against his better judgment he followed the instructions, finding the cozy little room already prepared, as if he had been expected.
Maurice woke with a start, not remembering having fallen asleep. Regardless, as he stretched he felt better than he had in years, back in the days before those fine wrinkles that snuck onto his face or the paunch that had appeared overnight. The room had no windows but he instinctively knew it was early morning.
He left the small room and followed the winding hallway back to its origin. Sunlight streamed into the entrance, giving it an otherworldly feel. Immediately his eyes zoomed in on the one difference.
There was an unexpected splash of color on the table. A dozen bright red roses stood healthy and tall in a glass vase.
Would you bring me a rose, Father?
He had lucked out. His beloved Isabelle would receive her gift after all. His heart light, he plucked a single rose, separating her from her sisters. Studying the rose, he felt proud. Its petals were a thick and velvety, the most vibrant shade of red he had ever seen.
Maurice gently tucked the flower inside his jacket pocket to keep it safe.
A deafening roar rang out as his hands closed around the brass door handle. He whirled around and cried out.
"Where is my rose?" The beast growled, deep voice hoarse. "I offered you shelter and this is how you repay me?"
The enormous creature lumbered towards Maurice. Badly frightened he turned and yanked hard on the handle, desperate to escape. It would not budge.
Maurice knew he would not leave here alive.
As if sensing his thoughts, the monster's lips curled upwards in a gruesome smile.
Golden eyes narrowed and the beast hovered over Maurice.
Maurice closed his eyes and whispered one final prayer for his children.