Witching Tree (Alice Gray Book 1)

41

Fragrant, warm air enveloped me as I took a step onto the soft green grass. My light dress fluttered in the pleasant breeze and my hair swished gently around my face. The bright sun was high up in the sky.

Had I been in that room for twenty-four hours?

It didn't seem to matter. The fresh air filled my lungs, and all my concerns melted away in the warm sunshine.

I turned a full circle. My eyes met with more beautiful landscape. Green hills rolled into a forest in the distance to the right, and I could just make out the glint of a blue lake to the left. No roads, paths or buildings in any direction.

Wasn't there something wrong with that?

I took a step, my foot sinking into the lush, dewy grass. A swarm of butterflies, every colour of the rainbow, circled me before fluttering on their way. The air carried the fragrance of new growth on its gentle breeze.

Unease prickled somewhere deep in my mind.

Was the grass ever so green and soft underfoot, the air so fresh?

Wait.

Wasn't it winter?

Suddenly everything looked wrong; too bright, too pure, too tranquil.

Too perfect.

Nature was flawed not carefully landscaped and manicured. Someone was seriously messing with me. Or this was all in my mind? Maybe I was dreaming.

I looked down at myself. The dress was impeccable. No drops of blood, creases or wrinkles, which was odd, considering that my lip was split, I had just scrambled around on a bed and been carried down a corridor.

A corridor. I spun round. Where the hell was that building?

My swollen lip throbbed, and my lacerated feet were suddenly less than happy with the grass underfoot.

Soft chimes sang that old family song in my head, but the melody was off key. Distorted into something wrong. It jarred my senses, just like this place.

If this was a dream, then where was the monster that would make it a nightmare?

I didn't have to wait for long.

Movement in the air drew my gaze to the left. I turned sharply.

An arbour stood ten paces ahead of me. It faced away, so that I could see only its back and sides, which were covered in white roses.

The blooms were impossibly dense and lush. The dark green foliage stood in stark contrast to the purity of the white flowers. Captivated by its beauty, it took a moment to realise that it was occupied.

Somebody was singing within, hidden from sight. The tune was solemn and achingly familiar.

The old lullaby.

But it was off key, just like the chimes in my head, and like that childish voice that sang the verse over and over when I woke into this hellish place.

This singer was deep and soulful, nothing like the scale of that saccharine rendition. Yet something about the delivery was the same, some discordant cadence, or sour notes connected the two and made them sound dark and wrong.

I followed the rhythm of the old verse, eyes glued to the arbour, waiting for whoever was inside to make a move.

I was here at their 'invitation'. They would be the one to speak first.

When nothing happened and only a shadow of the figure remained perceptible through the dense vegetation. I decided waiting for my fate might not be the best move after all.

I turned to flee.

A barely perceptible shimmer occurred in the very outskirts of my field of vision. I couldn't stop the grunt of frustration when the arbour was right before me again. Positioned identically, facing away, the figure obscured within.

His song had finished but he continued to whistle the off-kilter tune.

I turned again, although by now the futility of escape had descended to wipe out any faint idea of running. The shimmer, and then the arbour.

Anger surged within me, the chimes in my head dissolving into mocking laughter.

I was being toyed with, like a lamb before the slaughter.

Resigned, I approached the arbour cautiously.

As I walked, my senses heightened to the surroundings. The grass was pleasantly moist and dewy underfoot. The air became increasingly fragrant with a divine floral scent from the roses. The warm breeze gently rustled my hair and dress. The agreeable sensations flooded my senses, pushing out my concerns, easing my discomfort.

A small, insignificant buzzing disrupted the delicious feel of the fresh air gently blowing away my anxiety. I batted whatever insect was hovering there, away from my ear. Once, twice, I couldn't get the damn thing.

Trying to ignore it, I focused on the warm sun on my skin and the cool grass underfoot.

The buzzing increased to an unpleasant static hum that travelled over my skin, sinking in until my organs vibrated to the same frequency.

I shook my head, struggling to focus my thoughts. But it was too late. It was all ruined.

I knew for sure now. Something was controlling my mood.

Fighting to resist the influence of the heady stimulants surrounding me, I reached out to touch one of the perfect rose blooms that covered the structure. Their pure colour and wax like appearance was too immaculate for nature. No-one could coax every bud to bloom at the same time. Where were the mature blossoms that had past their glory, to hover over-ripe on the verge of decay, and the buds, yet to reach their full potential?

As I touched the flower, its velvety petal withered and came away in my hand. The rest cascaded to the ground like a waterfall.

I dropped my hand, stepping back. The arbour rippled as each flower crumpled. They fell one after the other, moving out in a domino effect.

The sweet smell of the blooms transformed into the rancid odour of decay as the white blossoms browned and fell from their stalks. These, once a lush, rich green, were thin and brittle, shrunken onto the arbour, a cage of dangerously gnarled thorns the only remnant of the once abundant plants.

A slow, deliberate clap roused me from the disturbing sight of the dead arbour.

"Excellent work, Alice."