A flower the color of blood. Wind howled through the trees all around me, whipping the branches in every direction. The sky overhead churned, thick with roiling clouds I brushed my windswept hair from my face. I only wanted to look at the flower.
Each rain-beaded petal was vividly red, slender, and bladelike, the way some tropical orchids are. Yet the flower was lush and full, too and it clung full to the branch like a rose. The flower was the most exotic, mesmerizing thing I’d ever seen. It had to be mine.
As I reached out for the flower, the hedge rustled. The wind, thought, but it wasn’t the wind. No, the hedge was growing – growing so quickly that I could see it happening. Vines and brambles pushed from the leaves in a tangled snarl. Before I could run, the hedge had almost surrounded me, wailing me in behind stricks and leaves and thorns.
Ueber mich
Abonneren op:
Reacties posten (Atom)
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten