Black Rose

 Black Rose

         Christopher Black never believed in myths or silly superstitions. He walked under ladders all the time. He stepped on cracks, too. He found the idea of a black cat being bad luck ludicrous. He always allowed black cats to cross his path. Nothing bad ever happened to him. He’d broken several mirrors in his life. Again nothing has ever happened. So what made the idea of black roses being connected to voodoo any different? It came true.

         Chris could have easily avoided everything that happened. Since he believed in nothing, his disbelief was his downfall.

       It was New Years Eve. Chris was drinking his heart out. He was stumbling around the streets with a bottle of Pearl Vodka in his hand. He nearly fell with every step. The smell of booze that radiated off of him was so strong you could smell it a mile away.

      Chris walked clumsily down Parker Avenue looked up and realized he had stopped in front of 666. This was the home of a supposed voodoo queen. He dumped vodka on the newly bloomed roses in her yard. He hobbled up a few stairs. “Put a curse on me. I dare ya…Go ahead…try so I can laugh in your face…” he said his voice severely slurred. “You gunna use a voodoo doll on me?” he laughed taking a drink.

         “Idiot.” an elderly woman snapped. “You find insulting me humorous?”          

        He looked up and saw her mere inches from his face. Her skin was grey. Her eyes were black. Her matted, black hair was whipping around her face. She was extremely ugly.    

     Chris, in his drunken state, found this hideous woman very attractive. He looked her up and down. She had perky breast, instead of her saggy ones that nearly reached her knees. Hazel eyes replaced her black, lifeless ones. Her skin was a warm caramel color. 

      “You don’t look like a crone to me.” he said with an idiotic smile.

       “Fool!!” she screeched. She murmured a few words in an indiscernible language and a few more in Latin.  She smiled. It was an awful sight. Her yellow teeth were sharp and crooked. “A surprise awaits you at your home tonight. An even bigger surprise will come in three moons.” she said in an ominous voice.

           “Like what? A big a*s cake?”

               “Death!”

      With that word Christopher Black seemed to sober up quite a bit. He began to grasp the severity of the situation. “Wait? What? Why? What did I do?”

        “You doubt my abilities and power. You disrespect me as though I were a common street urchin! So I shall prove to you, wicked child, what I am truly!  Capable of!”

      “I’m sorry. It was the alcohol talking. “

      “Who is to say it is not speaking for you now? Ignorant is what you are boy!

          “Death is so…uncalled for though.” he said with a nervous laugh. “Can’t we work this out?”

              “Nothing can stop hell hounds once they are summoned. Even if I could stop them I would not. Especially not for a disgrace like you.”

Did you say…h…hell hounds.”  He had read about them. Only the person they were sent for could perceive them.

                   She laughed wickedly. Chris looked around in panic, and then looked back at where she had been standing. He gasped at the realization of her new position. She was now standing on her porch. “Three days.” She said and walked into her house. He drank the rest of the vodka and busted the bottle so that he could have a weapon. Why was he so paranoid? He didn’t believe in any of that garbage did he?  He tried to clear his head. The moment he got home his heart stopped. On his porch was a black rose. A sign that meant death would soon come knocking at his door.

      Part 2 

     The following three days Chris kept to himself. He rarely left his room.  He spent his time on his laptop researching Hell Hounds. They were demonic creatures said to be Satan’s pets. They came in pairs and usually appeared engulfed in flames. Where ever they stood would singe from the flames. The only information Chris found helpful was that they could not cross a barrier of salt. Chris then looked up the Black Rose myth. An article read:

                     The Black Rose Myth is a fascinating one. I have spent many years researching its origin and found that it came, like many other enticing superstitions and myths, form Haiti. It’s said that a curse was placed upon the black rose, by a vengeful voodoo worshiper. After their lover placed a gruesome hex on them they placed a black rose on their door step, wishing for death to fall upon them any way fit. An illness later overtook their ex-lover and they died soon after words.

              The death of the receiver would occur at midnight three days after the black rose is first received. The most popular form of death, so my sources say, is hell hounds. They arrive at the home of the receiver at 11:55 p.m. and they carry out their task at midnight. Nothing can stop them form completing their task. It is possible to delay your fate, however; hell hounds can not pass a barrier of salt. Sadly this technique won’t last very long 70 minutes at most. Tragic really.

         He was screwed. In the end he would still end up dead. He took the articles advice and decided he would attempt to deny fate. He poured salt in front of every door and window. He also poured salt around his bed and in front of the bathroom door. In the far corner he’d set a chair and encircled it with salt. He could move about slightly freely. The day before Chris had taken the liberty to write his will. He wanted to ensure that everything he owned went to a proper place. The alarm on his phone began to sound it was 11:55. Soon he began to hear barking and demonic growls. He said a prayer in his head. He deeply regretted not going to church as often as he had as a child. He stood up paralyzed with fear. Where was the safest place? He thought. He jumped onto his bed. He began to hear clawing and scratching at his door. 

          This continued for thirty minutes then his bed began to shake. “Oh God! They’re coming from under my bed. If they can’t cross a circle they shouldn’t be able to be inside of one.” he said aloud. He made a run for the corner and made it there just as the hounds emerged. They were jet black. Their eyes were glowing red. Their bodies, as described, were engulfed in flames. They growled at him viciously and clawed at the ground. They snapped their teeth at him. He let out a relieved sigh. They couldn’t get out of the salt circle. He quickly swallowed his joy as the hell hounds disappeared into the ground and reemerged two feet in front of him. His heart was pounding. He moved as far away as possible. He was fine. There wasn’t enough room for the hounds to emerge inside his protective circle. He could live for maybe another hour.

            Ten minutes passed then twenty, then thirty- five. At this point his room had become strangely cold. An odd mist was seeping from underneath his bed. The hell hounds seemed to be smiling. Perhaps he was hallucinating. He looked at his circle; the salt was steadily drifting out of place. Why?! He thought. The idea to dash toward the bathroom crossed his mind but he knew he wouldn’t make it. It was time to accept his fate. Five minutes later the circle was broken. He tried to fix it but his attempt was futile. “Good boys.” he said shaking.

           One of them pounced and tore at the flesh on his leg. He howled in pain. The other one made a move toward his arm. Their bites burned his skin. Their mouths, too, must contain flames. With a sickening snap the hound tore his leg off. Hardly any blood flowed from the wound, for it had been cauterized. He screamed. The other hound looked him in the eye and made a dash for his throat. This was the last thing Christopher Black ever saw….                              

Reviews

[Max Earns]

Very fluent and entertaining! I liked it!

[Star Wolf]

A very creepy and chilling story. Great horror. You did a superb job on this.

[Kacie Delane Davis]

well thank you :)