Witching Roses

Rose Garden

I felt the hot water scorch my skin, and I didn't flinch but let it flow, allowing the heat to seep into my muscles and wash away the tension that had been building up over the last two days. The vision—or hallucination—I had at the tree today had rattled me to my core, and I desperately needed this moment of solitude and relief. It was nice to have a shower, to feel the water cascade over me, cleansing not just my body but my mind as well.

The steam enveloped me, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back, letting the water run through my hair and down my back, tracing the contours of my body. Each droplet felt like a tiny massage, melting away the stress and fear that had taken root in my soul.

As the water continued to pour over me, I found myself becoming more aware of my senses. The way the droplets slid over my skin, the gentle hum of the water hitting the tiles, the warmth enveloping me—it was all so grounding, so real. I ran my hands through my hair, feeling the silky strands slip through my fingers, and then let my hands glide down my neck, over my shoulders, and across my chest.

I let out a soft sigh, the sound mingling with the hiss of the water. I closed my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me, allowing myself to simply be in this moment. The world outside the shower could wait. For now, it was just me, the water, and the pleasure of being alive.

I opened my eyes, the water had turned a crimson. Spitting out of the shower aggressively. My heart raced, and I stumbled backward, pressing myself against the cold tiles as the water continued to gush, now fully red, as if the pipes themselves were bleeding. I watched in horror as the crimson liquid coated the walls, streaking down in thick rivulets.

My breathing became shallow, panic squeezing my chest tighter with every second. I tried to tell myself it wasn't real-that it was just another hallucination, like the vision at the tree. But the coppery smell in the air, sharp and metallic, told me otherwise.

I stared at the showerhead, unable to move, waiting for it to stop, for this nightmare to end. It didn't. The water kept surging, thick and violent. The sight of it made my stomach turn, and a wave of nausea rolled over me.

I had to get out.

With trembling hands, I fumbled for the knob, twisting it frantically until the water finally stopped. The silence that followed was deafening. I stood there, drenched, my body shaking as the remnants of the red water swirled down the drain. My breath came in ragged gasps, and I wiped my eyes, blinking away the moisture.

I leaned against the shower wall, trying to ground myself, trying to make sense of what l'd just seen. But there was no sense to it. I glanced around the bathroom-everything seemed normal again. The tiles, once streaked with crimson, were pristine.

The air had cleared, and the smell of blood had vanished. I quickly stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around myself. My mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. I couldn't shake the images, the feeling of the blood-red water pouring over me. It had felt so real, too real.

I took a few deep breaths, attempting to steady my nerves. The bathroom mirror, fogged up from the steam, reflected my pale, wide-eyed face. I wiped a section of it with my hand, revealing my own fearful expression. What was happening to me? Was I losing my mind, or was there something more sinister at play?

My wet honey blonde hair clung to me, framing my face in damp tendrils. I looked a mess—pale, wide-eyed, and utterly shaken. I wrapped the towel around myself more tightly, seeking some semblance of comfort and security.

I needed to talk to someone, to make sense of what was happening to me. My mind immediately went to Star. She seemed to understand this place and its strange energies better than anyone. Maybe she could help me understand what I was experiencing.