The Black Rose

Intro

The black rose in another one of those stories you here on camp. It isn't terribly scary but it's slightly strange when you look at him from a different angle.

Scare Factor: 1/10

Matthew was pissed off. Once again he had been rejected by his co-workers and forced to sink so low in the business that he was now the laughing stock of his floor. He walked along a dingy town alleyway. He scurried through a labyrinth of alleys like a rat, trapped in a maze, finally he arrived at his tower block. A drop of rain fell on his nose and he ran inside. He crossed the ground floor into the lift on the other side of the stone room. When he was inside he selected the button that would transport him to the 30th floor. As the lift was on the 20th floor the lights went out. Matt cursed. These things always happened to him. The lift stopped. Was it him or had the temperature just fallen. When he exhaled a strange smoke escaped from his mouth. It floated up to the ceiling where it disappeared. He pressed the emergency button and then cursed. Of course the button wouldn't be working.

Suddenly the lift jolted and the lights came back on. Matt let out a sigh of relief. The lift stopped at his floor and opened. Matt rushed out and almost sprinted to his apartment. A grotty, run down two roomed slum featuring a bedroom and kitchenette. He walked into his bedroom which consisted of a bed and closet. However something was different today. A single flowerpot was on his bedside table. It was black with a white centre. A note lay beside it "Dear Matt. I'm sorry to hear about you're cold. I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Love Janet." Matt grinned. He made himself a snack and then went to bed.

That night he had a dream. A flash of images appeared before him. A young girl was playing with a doll. She then ripped the dolls head off and blood spilled onto the floor. The black rose turned into an old women who slit her wrist with a kitchen knife. A scarecrow came to life and smiled. Then went onto rip a young girl to shreds. A man lay in an iron maiden. He screamed and the iron maiden closed on him. Blood poured out of two holes at the bottom of the device. It then opened revealing the man's mangled body. The rose appeared again and then withered. Matt could hear screaming that was silenced.

"A murder?"

"yes. A young man has been killed. Strangled in his sleep!"

"Who?"

"A man named Matthew Janston." The two policemen sat in a dingy office at the Juniville Police Station. There was just one desk and two chairs. The walls were yellowing and peeling. One of the policemen, a short man with a brown mustache yawned.

"So what exactly happened?" he said.

Janet Yayle entered the tall apartment block. She always had distaste for the building. She crossed the quiet entry hall and went into the lift. She pressed the button which would take her to floor thirty. The double doors slid open and Janet walked into a long narrow corridor. She could here the drip-dripping of a burst pipe somewhere down the corridor. She went over to apartment number four hundred and found that it was unlocked. She went into the "kitchen" and wretched. There was a horrible smell, like vomit. She walked into the bathroom sighed. Matt was in bed, facing away from her sleeping. It was mid day! The flower he had bought him had withered. She went over to the window and opened the curtains, "Come on Matt," she said "get up." Matt didn't move. She went over to him and touched him. He was ice cold. She slowly put her hand on him and began to turn him over. Her insides froze when she saw his face. It was deep purple and wrinkled. His eyes were wide open and his mouth hung loose. His neck had black hand prints smothered on it. He stared strait at her and she passed out.

"Another one?"

"Yup. Another death."

Joseph walked up to the flower stand. It contained the most obscure types of flowers he had ever seen. There were green daisies and orange bluebells. But the flower that caught his eye was one of the strangest kind. A black rose. It stood tall and proud above all the other types. A woman came to him. She had long black hair and a short, stubby nose. She had wrinkles all over her face and her veins bulged on her hands.

"Anything I can help you with?" her voice was husky and quiet.

"Yeh," said Joe "how much are the black roses?"

"Hmm. Just fifty pence each."

"They are a strange specimen." He stared at the black rose. For some reason it attracted him more than anything he had ever seen.

"Yes they are. Would you like one?"

"Yes, yes I would." He gave the woman his money and took the flower away with him. That night he put it on his bedside table and drifted to sleep.

He woke up at midnight. He felt clammy and sweaty. He tried to sit up but he couldn't. He could only move his eyes which darted around the room. They rested on the black rose. Then they locked up. All he could do was stare at the rose.

Then it moved.

The rose twitched and started to move like a snake. The flower turned into a hand. Veins bulged in the hand and long black fingernails curled out of the skin. The stem turned into an arm. A horrible old arm that started moving towards Joe. He tried to move but he couldn't. All he could do was stare helplessly at the hand which moved towards his neck. It writhed and twisted as if in immense pain. It darted towards his neck and clenched around it. All Joe could do was lie and scream on the inside as the hand squashed the air out of him.

"I'm gonna stop this." A policeman called Alex June said this as he read the report. "I'll find the truth and stop it. What's the connection in the murders?"

"A black rose was found beside the bed."

"Does anybody no where it came from?"

"Yes a shop on Littleworth road."

"Okay I'll check it out."

Alex went up to the flower stand. A bunch of black roses were on sale for a quid. He started to move towards it but an old women stepped in his way.

"So you like the rose?" she said.

"Yes," said Alex, and he did. There was something strangely attractive about it.

"That will be one pound dear."

"Okay, here you go." She handed him the rose.

That night Alex prepared everything. He placed a kitchen knife in a on a piece of string that was attached to the rose. If the rose moved, so did the knife. Right down through the stem. He went to sleep.

He woke up. He felt clammy and slightly sick. He tried to sit up but he couldn't. The only thing he could move was his eyes. They moved and rested on the rose. It twitched. Then it transformed into an arm which then moved towards Alex. The trap triggered.

The knife plummeted down and sliced the arm in two. Thick black steaming liquid poured out of the wound and he could move. He got out of bed then and went to the flower shop with his knife.

He went up to the stall and found a bunch of black roses but something was different. All of the upper stems and flowers were missing. He saw a shadow and hid behind the store. The old women walked out. Missing her right arm.