Contrast to the darkness of the cave, the moon illuminates the entrance. What is left of the thorns cling to the outer edges, the night wind swinging them as they hang from the arch. With the fog dissipated the empty land outside is as clear as the starry sky.
A stout silhouette peeks in. The Seventh Fairy pulls at a withered strand, accidentally breaking it off the wall.
“Oh dear,” she sighs. “Those pesky shades are finally gone but it seems so is the flower.”
Just as she is about to turn back a black blur dashes past her. The creature stops to peer back at her and they take stock of one another. She at its small body, the purest black, with yellow eyes and puppy-like body, long bone secured in its sharp teeth. And the creature up at the fairy, her round and homey shape with large, sparkling eyes.
“A shade?” Seventh exclaims. “But why is it so tiny?”
At her voice the shade scampers away into the darkness and after a moment of deliberation Seventh follows. At the flick of her wrist fairy lights flicker into existence and light the path. More tiny shades lay throughout the cave, apathetic to her presence.
Seventh clicks her tongue. “Looks like you’ve all had your fill. Leave it to humans to dump their curses like this. We tell them not to abuse magic but they just never listen.” She pauses in her steps and squints ahead while the fairy lights slowly continue ahead of her. “There’s still…a little bit of magic here…”
A thick mass of thorns appear at the back of the cave. The shade she first encountered paces before it in agitated steps. After picking a spot it lowers the bone to the ground and pushes it lightly with its nose towards the mound. Thin tendrils creep out to snake around the bone and pull it in within its tangle. There’s a rattle of bone against bone and the mound shivers before going still once again.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The shade attempts to come closer but is whipped back by a frenzy of slashing tendrils. With a yelp of pain the shade scurries out of range and drops to a far corner, whimpering as it licks at its wounds.
The sight of the wretched relationship fills Seventh with pity and she shakes her head. “What poor fate you’ve been given,” she says to the mound of thorns. “Abandoned here without sunlight. It’s no wonder you’ve become so prickly and scornful.” When she attempts to get a better look the mound trembles and expands like a bristling cat. Seventh lowers her voice to a gentle coo. “It’s okay, Darling. I know you’re protecting your precious flower. No one will hurt it. Let me have a look at you. Yes, that’s it, Darling. Let this old gardener get a look at you.”
Edges of her laced skirt get caught on thorns as she stands before the mound, lifting her hands to pry through the thorns. Though her fingers bleed she doesn’t wince nor complain. Instead she focuses on creating an opening and, with the help of the fairy lights, catches a glimpse inside.
A single blue rose grows in the pocket, caged by white rib bones connected to a spine. Seventh releases a long sigh before following the spine upwards. Resting at the top, past the tangle of tightly woven thorns, she finds the skull.
“Oh Darling…” Seventh cups the skull, her finger tips softly rubbing the smooth surface and the mound jolts then goes still. “I’ve got you now. Poor child. The hurting will stop soon. Leave everything to me. There’s no flower, shrub, or plant I can’t help. But you have to let me.” With a quick glance around her she notices the shades watching them, some of them starting to creep near. “Let all of us here help you.”
One hand she keeps on the skull and with the other she waves the closest shade to approach. The thorny mound shifts when the shade is at Seventh’s feet but doesn’t attack.
“That’s my Darling! This is a good start. I’ll stay here with you until you’re strong enough to move then we’ll find a nice, warm spot for you. I can create a pretty little garden for you and we’ll talk every day and once you’re doing better we’ll have tea under a flowering tree. How does that sound?”
Tendrils reach out to her as if wanting to embrace her but stop short of touching her, unwilling to cause her the slightest harm yet desperate for her.
“Shh, don’t worry my Darling. We’ll tidy up this dreary place soon. I’ll make sure you bloom bright and strong. You’ll have the most beautiful roses in all the land.”
In the black abyss behind empty eyes a ghost cries without a voice. His single rose holds on to his tear like a drop of dew on its petal.
END SCENE