Rose Garden: Chapter 05

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Cueh, cueh, cueh a high-pitched birdsong jolted Warren awake. He’d been curled up asleep at the base of a massive tree, and the sound made his back twitch. He cautiously opened his eyes.

Surrounded by dense undergrowth and shrouded in blue mist, everything beyond a few feet was a hazy blur. It was dark but not the darkness of night. The air had the pallor of dawn just before first light.

He rubbed his eyes roughly with a filthy, dirt-scented hand. The moment he fully woke, his stomach growled loudly. The sound was so pitiful it made his chest ache. Even when he pressed hard against his belly, the hunger didn’t subside.

He’d been dreaming before that bird’s call woke him. In the dream, he was at the small kitchen table with his grandparents. Freshly baked bread lined the table, and steam rose from Maria’s specialty pheasant soup. Even in the dream, he knew the villagers had found out about the wings, that he’d been exiled from the village. And yet, somehow, the three of them sat around the table together. So he’d believed, maybe everything had turned out fine.

The meal began, but no matter how much he ate, he never felt full. In fact, the more he ate, the hungrier he got. Of course he did. It had only been a dream.

He licked his knuckles and tasted dirt and salt. It had been seven nights since the black wings sprouted from his back, since he was driven from the village and took refuge in the Oliva forest. Deep in its heart, where no humans dared enter, Warren had cried out countless times to no one in particular: “What am I supposed to do?”

But it was always just a whisper, just a monologue. No voice ever answered. His words dissolved into the thick forest, swallowed up by the gloom.

What he did know, what he knew all too well was that in this form, there was no way he could leave the forest. If the villagers spotted him, they’d kill him on sight. He remembered the look in Joshua’s eyes, the way he had raised that gun without hesitation. It made his chest ache, even as anger bubbled inside him. All those hours they’d spent together, that long friendship, only made the betrayal hurt more.

He worried constantly about Ido and Maria too, but he couldn’t risk going back to check on them. A sigh slipped out and with it came the stench of rotting eggs. Grimacing, Warren pinched his nose. The Oliva forest always smelled like this to some degree, no matter where he was. It wasn’t until two days ago that he realized: it was the stench of the monsters themselves.

Warren slowly pushed himself to his feet and wandered into the blue-tinged gloom. The stench was unbearable, but more than that he was parched. His footsteps crunched against dead grass as he searched for large leaves, scooping up dewdrops pooled in the creases to drink. It wasn’t nearly enough.

Since entering the forest, he had only consumed dew and a few berries. At last, overwhelmed by hunger, he collapsed where he stood. The cold crept in and made him shiver.

And then, as if responding to his body’s needs, the black wings on his back wrapped themselves tightly around him, shielding him like a cocoon.

He never imagined there would come a day when he would use these cursed black wings, the very reason he had been driven from the village as something to protect himself.

“I smell a human.”

A shrill, grating voice rang out from above, like the screech of a broken violin.

“I smell a demon too.”

“That one’s a half-breed, part human and part demon. Eat something like that and you’ll get the runs.”

“What’s a thing like that doing in our domain, the home of the Fodju birds?”

“How should I know? Still, what an eyesore. With a demon like that hanging around, no prey’s gonna come close.”

Warren lifted his face. After seven nights in the forest, he’d grown used to the monsters that dwelled here but the Fodju birds, these strange creatures, still made his skin crawl every time he saw them.

They were the size of young goats, their bodies entirely gray, with absurdly long tails. Only their heads resembled lynxes. From their green, split mouths peeked long, twitching purple tongues.

“Oh look, it showed its face. What an ugly demon. No tail, and the ears aren’t even pointy.”

“It’s true. A truly hideous demon.”

The stench around them grew worse from the birds’ rancid breath. Pinching his nose, Warren lowered his head and cloaked himself entirely in his black wings, doing his best to ignore them. The Fodju birds were chatty and obnoxious, but they’d never actually harmed him.

Once the monsters of the forest caught wind that Warren carried demon blood, they lost all interest in him. Most ignored him completely. Some, however, seemed to resent his presence and tried to chase him off. Among them was a beast called a Spritz, monkey-like in shape, with an intense sense of territory. The moment Warren stepped into its domain, it flew into a rage and chased him with terrifying fury. But as soon as he left its territory, it lost interest and returned to its nest.

Clutching his aching stomach and shielding himself from the cold with his wings, Warren found his thoughts drifting back to the dream he’d had earlier. And without realizing it, tears began to spill down his cheeks.

That morning scene waking up in a warm bed, Maria’s delicious freshly baked bread laid out on the table was now nothing more than a dream. He’d once thought it all so ordinary, never realizing how happy it truly was. Now, all he could do was sit in this monstrous forest and worry for his grandparents’ safety, powerless to do anything else. The shame of that helplessness hollowed him out.

Loneliness and misery pressed in like a tide. Wouldn’t it be easier just to die here? He shook the thought away roughly. As long as he remained in the forest, his life was at least safe. He couldn’t break down here. He wasn’t allowed to die yet. His grandparents had risked everything to help him escape. If he gave up now, if he allowed himself a quick end while they were left behind that would be unforgivable.

He forced himself to his feet.

Sitting here wouldn’t fill his stomach. He’d eat anything. Even tree roots, if he had to. Until the villagers caught and killed him, he would live. He would survive.

Warren began to walk again, aimless but resolute.

After the Fodju birds’ voices faded into the distance, he emerged from the woods into a small grassy clearing. His foot sank into something soft, and he stopped, glancing down. A brownish lump of something. He bent to pick it up only to find it was a large leather satchel, the bottom torn open. Looking more closely around the area, he saw its contents scattered about.

There were small bottles and notebooks, but what caught Warren’s eye, what froze his breath was a light brown paper bag.

A thick mist hung in the air, and he sensed no one nearby. Heart racing, Warren ran to the bag, picked it up with trembling fingers. As he’d hoped, inside was bread.

Clutching the bag to his chest, he bolted.

How far had he run? Once he was sure no one had followed, he ducked beneath a massive tree and tore open the bag. With shaking hands, he grabbed the bread and bit into it standing up. Devoured it greedily, noisily, cramming every last crumb into his mouth.

When he finished, he shredded the paper bag into tiny pieces and scattered them into the underbrush. That way, no one would know he had eaten it. A sense of relief came but then terror flooded in.

What have I done?

He dropped to a crouch and clutched his head.

He had been hungry, desperately hungry and yes, it had been lying on the ground… but it wasn’t his. He had stolen something that belonged to another. No matter how he tried to spin it, that was a sin.

In a panic, Warren crossed himself and clasped his hands together. He had stolen from another person, his sin would surely disappoint Maria and Ido, who had always been so devout. He couldn’t give back what he had eaten, but he wanted to atone. First, he would apologize to whoever had owned the bag. No matter how much they cursed him, even if they struck him it was his crime. He would accept whatever came. God would never forsake one who believed. Even a sinner, if he repented, would surely be saved.

Warren walked with a slow, steady step so different from how he had run before. He was Ido and Maria’s grandson. A human being. Even with demon wings on his back, he was still unmistakably human. He didn’t want to lose his humanity, not in his heart.

Guided only by his instincts, he retraced his path through the wooded maze. Ever since the wings had sprouted, his senses had sharpened he could see farther, smell better than ever. It made him feel like he was drifting further away from humanity, and that frightened him.

The closer he drew to the spot where he had found the bag, the more the air thickened with a raw, fishy stench. It was different from the usual reek of monsters. There’d been no smell earlier, so maybe the wind had shifted. But as soon as he reached the grassy clearing where he’d stolen the bread, his feet stopped cold. His eyes widened.

Thanks to the now-lightening sky and the fog thinning out, he could see what he hadn’t before. Beyond the scattered contents of the leather bag, a low thicket was stained dark red like someone had flung a bucket of paint over it. The smell was fresh, but there was no one in sight.

He hadn’t thought much about why the leather bag had been lying there torn. But now… Had someone been attacked and dragged away by a forest monster? No, maybe they’d only been wounded and had managed to escape.

Warren gathered the unknown person’s leather bag and its scattered contents. If they’d made it out, they might still need these things someday. He couldn’t take them to a church, but at the very least, he could bring them to the forest’s edge, where they’d be easy to find. That might be a small way to atone for having eaten the bread.

He hugged the bag to his chest. Just as he was about to walk away, a loud rustling sound overhead startled him.

“Hey, demon.”

A rough, gravelly voice came from above. Warren dropped the leather bag at his feet with a thud. Slowly, he raised his head and froze. Perched on a tree branch above was the biggest Spritz he had ever seen.

“This is my territory. Quit sneaking around and get out of here!”

Terror gripped his body. His legs shook, but he forced them to move just as something wet splashed onto his feet with a plop.

A burst of red on the grass.

It kept falling, drop by drop, staining the ground beneath him.

“What’re you standing there for? MOVE!”

At that exact moment, something solid landed in front of him with a thud. It looked like a stick, but when he stared harder… he saw toes.

A human foot, caked in blood. And only the part from the knee down.

Warren’s lips began to tremble.

“Ah… damn,” the Spritz muttered.

It jumped down from the tree, scooped up the severed foot, and without hesitation, bit off the toes with a wet crunch.

Warren had heard the stories. Forest monsters ate people, he’d been told that again and again. But he had never seen it before.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

He screamed so loud the Spritz itself flinched.

And then Warren ran.

This isn’t right. This can’t be real.

Human beings don’t just get eaten like that. No way God would allow something like this.

As he ran, he crossed himself again and again. This is the realm of monsters. It’s not a place for humans. I don’t want to be here. I can’t stay here.

That shock, that horror it gave him the courage to run out of the forest.

The moment he burst free of the dim woods, the world opened wide around him. A vast plain, with wind rustling gently across it. A sweet, familiar scent filled the air.

It was the scent of Isli blossoms. Around this time of year, the Isli trees would bloom all at once, blanketing the land in pale cream-colored flowers.

It was early morning, and the sky outside the forest had just begun to pale. In the distance, the cry of a rooster echoed faintly. The narrow path was deserted. Warren walked slowly, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings. Even the faint flutter of a bird's wings sent a shiver down his spine, and he crouched at the edge of the road. He was that afraid of being seen in his current form.

So when he reached the abandoned house at the outskirts of the village, he didn’t hesitate to dive inside. He scanned the room and pulled down the large cloth hanging over a window. Dusty and torn in places, it was enough to cover his black wings when he draped it over his head.

He left the house looking like a beggar. Along the way, he passed a hunched old woman. Warren feared that she might recognize him as the boy with the devil’s wings and throw stones at him. But she simply glanced at the beggar and passed by without a word.

Shuffling along the rural village road, he wished with all his heart to go home. He felt like if he returned to that house with the high stone walls, Maria and Ido would be waiting for him by the warm hearth. Despite how horribly he’d been driven out, maybe just maybe if people realized how devout he truly was, he could return to his old life. He wanted that so badly.

To get home, the quickest way was through the village square. It was still early, and there wouldn’t be many people about. As he neared the square at a brisk pace, he heard the chorus of many birds. Perhaps they had gathered at the well in the center.

As he walked, a memory struck him. That’s right the Harvest Festival began today. Every year, the villagers built a large flower-covered float for the festival, parading children and unmarried women through the streets, and ending with a night of dancing and fire in the village square.

The square was usually bustling with preparations before the festival. But from where he stood at the edge of the road, he couldn’t see a single float. Still, something had been constructed in the center of the square. A wooden structure. Perhaps an unfinished float, he thought vaguely, and drifted toward it.

It was a crude frame made of three logs joined into a triangle. There were two of them, with a narrow log strung horizontally across each. Warren tilted his head. What could they be? And from their direction, a foul stench was wafting. With every step closer, an unbearable dread crawled up his spine.

And then he realized what was hanging from the narrow crossbeams and flung off the rag that hid him, breaking into a sprint.

In the center of the village square, on the crude gallows built from simple logs, two bodies hung.

Birds had gathered around them, pecking at the rotting flesh with sharp beaks. The smell of decay was overwhelming.

Ido and Maria’s eyes had been gouged out. And both of their foreheads were branded with the mark of the cross.

“I-Ido… Ido…”

As he drew near, the birds scattered with a great flapping of wings. Ido hung there, mouth agape, swaying gently in the breeze.

“Maria…”

Her usually well-kept hair was in disarray. Dried trails of bloody tears stained her cheeks. Warren threw himself against the logs in desperation, but the gallows were sturdily built they didn’t even creak. He couldn’t reach the nooses with his human arms. If only I could untie them. Just ease their pain, he thought, stretching himself up

And suddenly, his body lifted off the ground.

He didn’t even stop to question how. He sank his back teeth into the rope that had drained Maria’s life and bit through it. It snapped like brittle straw. Her body, now light as dried leaves, collapsed into his arms. Cradling her with one arm, he turned and bit through Ido’s rope as well. Ido fell against him, limp. Maggots writhed along his neck, and Warren shut his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see.

“Ah it’s the devil! The devil’s come back!”

Warren turned.

It was Bannan, the village baker.

At Bannan’s shout, windows flew open all around. People were coming. Holding Ido and Maria close, Warren consciously spread his wings and took to the sky.

He wanted to flee quickly but the weight of the two in his arms made him sway unsteadily. Flying was harder than he’d expected. Maybe he would have been faster on foot. But it was too late. Below, a crowd had already begun to gather.

"A devil! I knew it he was nearby!"

"Kill him! Kill him !"

From the ground below, terrifying shouts and stones rained upward. One rock struck Warren square in the forehead. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain and humiliation, and kept flying. But no matter how far he flew, people were chasing in that direction. There was no way he could return to that house now. The only place left to go was the Oliva Forest.

The moment the forest came into view beneath him, a sharp gunshot rang out. A stabbing pain lanced through one of his wings. His strength failed, and with his balance broken, Warren spun through the air like a falling leaf and crashed down into the forest below.

Slammed into the spaces between the trees, Warren couldn’t move at first, paralyzed by the blinding pain. He could hear joyous voices from outside the woods. As he bit down on his lip in anguish, bitter and heartbroken, he forced himself to his feet through the waves of pain surging through his body.

The wing that had been shot was bleeding heavily, and somewhere during the fall it had twisted into a strange angle he could no longer fold it properly. Dragging the heavy, useless wing behind him, he began walking. He’d dropped Ido and Maria when he was hit. He had to go find them.

He found Maria quickly. She had been caught in the branches of a nearby tree.

But the tree was too tall to climb. As a last resort, he moved the wounded wing and forced himself into the air. The pain was so excruciating it nearly stopped his heart, but he managed to hold Maria in his arms once again.

"Maria, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I dropped you. It must’ve hurt, it must’ve been so awful. I’m sorry…”

Pressing his face against her chest, he whispered his apology before gently laying her down at the base of the tree. Then he started walking again, searching the woods for Ido. He couldn’t have fallen far. And yet, no matter how much he searched, there was no sign of him.

“Hey, devil.”

Just as his legs were about to give out, a coarse voice called out. Warren turned. From beyond the trees stood a Spritz, its long purple tongue dangling grotesquely from its mouth. Once, the creature would have filled him with terror, but now, the fear had gone numb. Seeing it didn’t stir anything in him anymore.

“This is my territory. Get out.”

Warren started to turn back as instructed but then stopped, catching a faint whiff of rot. The Spritz was gripping something in one hand.

It was the body of his gentle grandfather the one Warren had held to his chest, brought back with him.

"Give him back! Give Ido back!"

Warren clenched both fists and shouted. The Spritz twisted its mouth into a cruel grin.

“This is what you’re asking for?”

It held Ido aloft before his eyes.

Warren lost his words.

Ido’s body his legs, everything below the waist was gone.

The Spritz’s purple tongue slithered up Ido’s body.

“This thing fell into my territory. It’s rotten, so it tastes bad, but food’s food. It’s mine.”

And then, opening its mouth wide, the Spritz clamped its jaws onto Ido’s chest and tore it off.

“UWAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

Screaming, Warren hurled himself at the creature. Startled, the Spritz dropped Ido. What was left of him just the upper half tumbled to the ground.

Warren scooped up the half-body and bolted.

But the Spritz snarled, “Grrrraaaaagh,” and gave chase. It grabbed Warren by the injured wing and slammed him into a tree without mercy.

Collapsed in agony, Warren watched through his blurred vision as the Spritz picked up Ido again and began devouring what was left from the neck down.

His mind boiled over.

He couldn’t think. He only felt the heat of rage. He charged again and sank his teeth deep into the monster’s hairy arm. He bit down hard, his jaws grinding deep into the creature’s flesh, and yanked the chunk away.

“UOOOOOOHHH!”

The Spritz screamed, toppling over and clutching its arm as it thrashed on the ground.

Warren spat out the rancid meat, seized what was left of Ido’s head, and with his agonized, battered wings, took off into the sky once more.

"Kill... kill..."

From beneath his feet, the howling roar of a beast echoed through the forest. He knew he couldn't outrun it. That left only one option: to fly.

But with wings torn, twisted, and riddled with holes, he couldn’t stay airborne for long. Midway through the sky, Warren fell again into the forest. The pain was overwhelming. He lay there motionless, unable to move for a time. But there were no signs that the Spritz was pursuing him. After resting briefly, he dragged his aching body and mangled wings forward, clutching Ido’s head tightly to his chest as he walked.

When Warren returned to where Maria had been, despair swallowed him whole.

The scene before him was a nightmare.

Maria’s body was swarmed by so many Fodju birds that her entire form was buried beneath a writhing mass of sooty black feathers. They pecked and clawed, fighting to tear into her flesh before the others could.

“Get away from her! Get back, get away!”

He shouted and swung at them until the birds scattered. But what remained beneath them, what had once been Maria was a ruin. Her spilled guts were rotting and strewn about, and her skull had been cracked open, brains spilling from it.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Ido… Maria… I’m so sorry…”

He embraced what was left of them and collapsed there, sobbing. The tears of regret regret for his own powerlessness would not stop.

“A devil’s got so much food with him,” came a voice from the trees above.

“He’s got human meat. It’s rotten, but it’s still food.”

“He’s hurt too. Hope he dies soon. Then we can eat that meat.”

“Hope he dies soon…”

“Hope he dies soon…”

Their shrill voices became a chant, echoing through the branches.

Gritting his teeth, Warren raised his tear-streaked face. He planted both hands on the ground and began to dig into the hard-packed dirt.

“Hope he dies soon…”

“Hope he dies soon…”

As the chorus of Fodju birds rained down around him, Warren dug. His claws split. His skin tore. His fingertips were covered in blood.

And still, without a word, he dug.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

After much hesitation, Warren placed a wooden cross atop the grave of Ido and Maria. They had believed in God. And because they had believed, he erected it. But Warren himself no longer had any faith left in such a being. What awaited his gentle, devout grandparents had been a death too cruel to be called anything but merciless. If punishment had to fall on anyone, it should have been on him alone. Ido and Maria had committed no sin.

Warren spent every day lying over the mound of earth that covered their grave. If he didn’t, then in a moment of sleep or carelessness, the Fodju birds or the dog-like beasts of the forest would come and dig it up. Until Ido and Maria returned to the earth, until his own life ran out he would protect their bodies.

Even in rain or wind, he never moved from their grave. His chest so full of grief, he no longer even felt hunger.

Though he hadn’t eaten a thing, the tattered demon wings on his back were completely restored in just two days. The twisted bones returned to place, the torn holes sealed over naturally. Was it something to be grateful for or to mourn? He couldn’t decide. On the fifth morning after all this, the world was suddenly flooded with dazzling light.

Warren raised his face from the soil and slowly pushed himself upright. He was surrounded by brilliant radiance. From nearby, he heard the screeching cries of Fodju birds and the fluttering of their wings as they scattered. And within that pure column of light descending from the sky, three angels clad in white clothing and bearing white wings slowly descended toward him.

Mouth half-open, Warren stared blankly at the glowing silhouettes. The beauty before him was like a religious painting from the church brought to life. He clasped his hands tightly before his chest, unable to speak.

The three angels landed soundlessly before him, each one beautiful, but the one standing in the center had especially magnificent wings. Her hair was long, shining gold like strands of silk, reaching down to her feet, and her skin was white as fresh cream. Her elegant, almond-shaped eyes were cool and serene, the blue of a summer sky.

“Today, the souls we are to bring to Heaven lie beneath this earth,” said the brunette angel standing on the right, opening a gilded book and reading aloud in a voice as clear as a bell.

“Ido Samereed and Maria Samereed. These two, once judged for the sins they committed on Earth, have been granted passage to Heaven in recognition of their devout faith. The one atop the grave is the half-demon, half-human boy they raised, Lady Agatha.”

The brunette angel turned to the one in the center Agatha and tilted her head slightly.

“He may be mixed with human blood, but there is no mistaking that he is a demon. Lady Agatha, shall I eliminate him?”

Taking Agatha’s silence as consent, the brunette angel raised the golden rod in her left hand high above her head.

Warren knew he was about to die, yet he felt no fear.

Far more overwhelming was the joy, the joy of knowing Ido and Maria would ascend to Heaven. If their souls could be saved, then it didn’t matter if he disappeared like dust. Nothing could make him happier than that. As he lowered his gaze to accept the judgment from above, his eyes happened to catch sight of the browned soil beneath his knees.

“…Angel…”

Warren raised his head and made the sign of the cross over his chest. Startled by the gesture, the brunette angel hurriedly lowered her arm and widened her eyes.

“Kind angel, who has come to carry the souls of my grandparents to Heaven before I die, I ask only one thing. These bodies that rest beneath the earth were buried in this monstrous forest out of necessity. If I disappear, they’ll soon be dug up and devoured by the beasts of the woods. I know it’s too much to ask, but… after I’m gone, could you at least protect their graves, so they won’t be desecrated?”

A breeze, soft like the winds of spring, seemed to blow past him.

And before he could even process it, the beautiful angel called Agatha was standing just within arm’s reach.

A warm breeze, like the breath of spring, brushed over him and when Warren looked up, he was startled to find the beautiful angel called Agatha standing close enough to touch.

“Raising a demon is a sin. What these two suffered as they did for raising you is only just. And yet, the reason they are to be called to Heaven is none other than their unwavering faith.”

Warren shook his head forcefully.

“The sin is mine alone. It was I who was born into this world. It was I who wished to live. Everything is my fault. They were only kind-hearted humans, nothing more. They never abandoned their faith in God. So please, just as their souls are being protected, let their bodies be protected as well. I beg you please… show them mercy.”

Agatha’s slender fingers moved gently. Bracing himself for judgment, Warren closed his eyes only to feel a sudden, radiant warmth envelop his entire body. Startled, he opened his eyes. The area around his grandparents’ grave shimmered with dazzling light. But only for a few seconds. It quickly faded back into the familiar brown earth.

“I have placed a barrier around this place to prevent monsters from entering. Its power will only last about a year but that should be enough for your grandparents to return to the soil.”

“A… thank you.”

Tears of joy spilled down his cheeks. He no longer had to fear that the monsters would desecrate his grandparents’ remains.

“What shall we do with this one?”

The brunette angel pointed at Warren with an exasperated expression.

“May I erase him?”

Agatha turned to the brunette angel and responded:

“There’s no need. Leave him be. He is no threat to anyone.”

The beautiful angel Agatha looked upon the half-demon with compassionate blue eyes.

“Poor demon. Had you not been raised by such kind-hearted humans, you might never have suffered so much. But this, too, is the fate you chose when you wished to live.”

The three angels turned as one and began to ascend, light once again flooding the clearing. As the radiant path filled the air, they rose toward the sky as though drawn upward by the light itself.

But just before they vanished, one of them, the angel who had stood on the left turned back and descended once more. This angel had golden hair just like Warren’s beloved Karen, and eyes the color of a deep, still lake. With a graceful motion, the angel extended a white finger in front of Warren and traced a soft arc through the air.

“In the name of Kyle, Guardian Angel of Flowers, may small roses bloom around this grave.”

A pale golden light spilled from the angel’s fingertip, falling gently over the earth. At once, small shoots began to sprout around Warren’s knees and the grave. They grew rapidly, forming green buds that soon blushed pink and began to bloom.

“Kyle!”

The brunette angel came rushing back in alarm, grabbing Kyle’s arm roughly.

“What are you doing?”

Scolded, the angel who had conjured the flowers cast down his vivid green eyes.

“It seemed so lonely here… I thought at least there should be flowers.”

“There’s no need for unnecessary actions.”

Rebuked, the green-eyed angel was quietly led away. The three angels vanished once more into the blinding light, and when their forms could no longer be seen, the radiant path they had followed scattered like mist and faded into the air.

Warren staggered to his feet and gazed down at the ground. Upon the grave where his grandparents rested, small, delicate flowers swayed in the wind, tilting their heads. His eyes burned, and an unstoppable rain of tears fell upon the roses.

The small pink flowers were called Little Mums, the variety Maria had loved most of all.

(T.N: Despite the text calling them “roses,” Little Mums are chrysanthemums. I’m following the author’s wording here.)

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