Roses

There was a rustle from the sweet-smelling bushes of the black roses that grew behind the campfire one calm summer night. The girl walked over quietly trying not to disturb the leaves at her feet. She parted the bushes, but there was nothing there. She walked further in among them as her friends called her back from the firelight. But now she was caught, her mind ensnared by the sweet perfume of black roses, and she walked further and further into the forest. By the time that a wisp of fresh air came down and returned her to her senses, it was too late. The branches had already started to grow up around her, strangely long thorns tightened about her lungs, and drew blood while stilling breath, slicing long gashes in her soft white flesh. Velvet petal twined about her face, softly silencing her screams, and she fell among the other bodies in the rosebush.