Posted: March 3, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Horror, Science Fiction

They found the strange garden in the woods just as Algol began to wink slyly from the head Perseus held above his own. Julius plucked one silvery blossom and threaded the flower into fair Rosamund’s hair. It was a moment from a dream, except the flower, stem broken now, was still alive. Its shining petals were razor blades, and Julius realized realized the thorns he had been so heedless of in his fit of passion were barbs as bright and hard as new fishhooks. Down among the razor petals a tiny clockwork mouth gnashed needlelike teeth. Rosamund panicked, tried to rip the false-flower from her hair where it had become tangled, and snatched back bloody fingers. Julius struggled to help tear the thing free of those long raven locks he had so often dreamed of caressing and came away with only a hunk of hair. Rosamund screamed and her shriek began to rouse the rest of the garden. Bigger things than flowers were moving in the moonlight. Cursing himself for a coward, Julius ran.


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