Rose

1. Scarenville

Above is the alternate book cover of my novel 'Rose'. Made by john_1290 I love it! Thank you!!

Rose

"That's gonna be twenty dollars, miss," the driver grumbles,  interrupting my train of thought.

Looking at the driver, I reach back to pull money out from my purse.

For months, I laboured over grueling work, trying to save as much money as possible. The canny penny-pinching seemed to help, as I'd managed to save hundreds of dollars in time for this move.

Rifling through my wallet, my freckled face twists in a frown. The neatly folded envelope containing my future is empty. Panicking I ransack the purse, frantically searching through every nook and cranny. As pocket after pocket turns out empty, a feeling of absolute dread surfaces in my stomach.

Where the hell could it be?

Cursing internally, I fish through the pockets of my jeans, delving past rolled up lint and gum wrappers to find some spare cash. Unfurling  some leftover change that's definitely seen its better days, I hand the wrinkled cash to the driver.

"Thank you, miss," he mutters and eyes me peculiarly.

Still disturbed, I nod and turn towards the window to inspect the town I'm about to call home. With the cash missing, I can only imagine how the rest of my journey will be. At first, my eyes focus on my reflection as I see my horribly braided brown hair with my freckles and dark circles. I look like a mess, but now was not the time to limelight my face so I focus on the background.

To my surprise, a quiet stillness sweeps through the town. Giving me goosebumps. Clearly, the days of bustling city life and afternoon traffic jams are long behind me. Trees litter every corner, and a dense, gray fog seems to blanket the deserted street.

It's cold outside, I realize, groaning.

Of all the things to forget to pack, I think to myself, sighing disapprovingly, it had to be winter clothes.

I should've spent more time researching this place, but hindsight is twenty-twenty, as the saying goes. Regardless, no amount of bitter cold could stop me from leaving. I don't think I could have stayed there a second longer.

Before I could lose myself in negative thoughts, I slide to the edge of the seat and move towards the door. As I'm about to push it open, the driver calls out in a thick British accent, "Wait, miss! If you don't mind, can I ask you a question first?"

I look at him, raising my eyebrows and signalling at him to continue.

"Why, Scarenville?" he questions with the same peculiar look he had graced me with before. "I mean, of all the places you could choose from, why did you choose here?"

"Does it matter?" I ask plainly.

"I'm so-sorry, Miss," the driver stutters out. "I don't mean to intrude. You see, with all the rumours, I just thought someone as pretty as you would steer clear of this town."

"What rumours?" I ask, unable to hide my curiosity. I know that most rumours are either twisted versions of the truth or outright lies, fabricated by gossip mills. Still, some depraved portion of my subconscious wants nothing more than to know what terrible affliction could cause the older man to be so panicked.

"There are whispers," he says, leaning over the front seat. "They say that those who enter Scarenville are cursed to never leave the town again. I'd watch out for the fog, Miss. Where there is fog, darkness follows. And where there is darkness, the most fearsome creature's reign."