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The Midnight Garden
A twilight moon in a scarlet starlight illuminated all that loomed below it; however, this illumination got no further than the rusted leaves on the smoldered trees. The ground remained in various hues of grey, varying from the darkest dark to the dullest dull. Flowers drooped in the shaded region, where no sun or moonlight could ever step foot without being extinguished forever. This place was void of emotion, empty of feeling- all the white roses had withered, and the red had begun to fade to grey.

Not a soul would enter; it scared the almighty, spooked the supernatural, and chased the mortal. No one had ever entered that Garden- well, none that had ever lived to tell the tale.

It was known as The Midnight Garden.

In Zodacova Town, there had been many disappearances over the years. There was no body, no evidence, nothing to suggest anything of their location. They just vanished without a trace; on a sidewalk, into a alley, or someplace else... nobody really knew. Stranger still, they never disappeared in the summer,nor spring. No, it was only from late autumn to late winter that they would fade out of existence, never to be seen or heard from again. Yet, it is said that at half past midnight you can hear their cries being carried by the wind in the obsidian gloom, like long lost souls crying for mercy as a wolf would howl to the moon.

They would always vanish in pairs.

At a glance, there was nothing strange about the town- it didn't scream of death, nor hell. The houses were white with grey stains on the occasional brick- all decorated with flowers in bloom. Each house was crafted with delicate hands, carved into a masterpiece with stained glass windows and a navy tiled roof. A fountain in the centre of the town spitting water, people walking down the street in a casual manner, shops selling items to one customer, passing them a receipt, and then on to the next. It all looked normal and simple at a glance.

Yet, with another glance, the perfect, simple view shifted. One would realise that the houses were identical in both shape and style; if a stain was on one house, all other houses would home the same stain, and all other features follow the same ideology. There was also exactly fifty of these houses, each housing two people- one girl and one boy. The flowers also matched- all flowerbeds held a sole red rose, and a sole white rose, and not one weed could be seen in sight. The faces of the people also seemed bizarre; all faces were downcast, and all seemed to conceal scars of heartache below the surface.

However, this was not the strangest thing about the town, not by far. No, the strangest thing was how they all travelled in pairs; casual conversations were had, yet all steered clear of eachother as though avoiding the plague, unless it was their sole partner. Nobody was ever sighted in groups, nor by themselves, only in pairs.

The only exception was the Midnight Garden.

As your already aware, the Midnight Garden is a strange place; it's takes what it wants and never gives back. It lay on corrupted land, a cursed location to be avoided- and all that could did just that. However, not all could avoid it.

Unlike everywhere else in the town, it was far from tidy, and severely messy as well as rooted. Its roses were wilted and there were far more than one of each type; red roses, with their crinkled petals, lay on the left of the garden, while all stained white roses lay to the right. The trees were also wilted, and there leaves coated the ground, a mosaic which nobody stopped to admire.

Nobody cleaned this place either; it was despised by the town people. It was like having hell in the centre of a town made for heaven- completely unexpected and out of place.

Not only was it the sole messy section of Zovacova town, it was also the only unowned section. All other homes had clones of gardens, yet this garden had no home. On the contrary, it was quite abandoned, and was surrounded by a fence of brown hue and crimson stain.

A crooked gate enclosed this gaping void, keeping it trapped in place. Yet, once a full moon the gate would creek open- this was an unpreventable issue, that no number of locks and chains could mend. It would always open with a creek, then a slight tremor as something of pure monstrosity would slither out into the silence of the night. It would soon return, but not without prey; it would pluck the roses from their beds, and each petal would wither into ash upon reaching the Garden.

Once something enters The Midnight Garden, they are gone for good- there is no escape, no plan, no hope, no life.

In the later months of the dozen, the roses may wilt before his arrival; this is inevitable, yet the town still suffers. That beast of the garden, it must take one hundred roses, one of each shade, whether plant or human it did not care.

So, on a late autumn night, when that creak sounds through the town, all goes silent. No one moves. No one blinks. No one breathes. All lie in silence, waiting, preying that there roses are fresh in colour. Yet, a pair of screams haunt the wind as they lay in their beds. Still no one moves; yet, all do care. They hear the slam of the gate and the wind hushes to a breeze. Yet, they still sit. They still wait. A shared mind as they pondered, wondered, waited...

Who's lives had withered in their roses place?

#Mystery #Hell #Strange #Cursed #Roses

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