Chapter One

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The rain coursed down over the city of Vancouver with a rumble

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The rain coursed down over the city of Vancouver with a rumble. The opaque clouds were hauled down by the heavy rain. Rain plunged down like a waterfall, obscuring the windshield.  The wipers flip-flopped on the rain-slick glass and couldn't keep up with the downpour, reducing visibility to under ten feet.

"Christopher, watch out!"

The only sound that resonated from his ears was the shatter of glass and Janice's screams when he hit the stationary vehicle in front of him. The car tumbled over and over and came to an unanticipated stop against a tree. Christopher hardly had time to react before the airbags knocked him back.

'Silence! Shouldn't Janice be groaning or crying out in pain?'

Her lifeless body was slumped through the windscreen, crimson red liquid splattered everywhere. Frantically he called out to her and pulled her body back into the car as gentle as he could. Rain had begun pouring in from the broken windshield.

When she fell backwards, her neck rolled to the side. Christopher could see dark red liquid oozing out of her wounds, her face unrecognizable. Her once sparkling emerald eyes were glazed over, lost. Those empty, emotionless eyes gazing endlessly into eternity, forever looking at nothing.

A horn honking behind him jolted him out of his dream, disturbing his most dreaded memory. Waving an apology in his side mirror, he sped off.

He reached the cottage before dusk. It looked lively and welcoming with the last glimmering rays of the day pouring over the roof. A newly painted green gate was the entrance to the premises. The facebrick house was very charming against the backdrop. He had bought the cottage here in Leavenworth, WA, to get away from the people he knew. It was perched on a plain near the woods with the most alluring garden. It was meant to be his escape. He had chosen it because he knew Janice would have loved it.

Pulling up in front of the cottage, he stepped out and the exceptional fragrance of the Strawberry Sundae Sweet Pea flowers greeted him, the blooming blends of pink, rose and white climbing up the front of the cottage wall.

He followed a dirt path with small pebbles to the large garden that took up most of the plain to the right of the house. A tiny pond with lilypads and a few ducks lay adjacent to the garden. It reminded him of a mini flower farm. Janice had been a florist and had always looked for flower farms she could visit to stock her shop. The day of the accident, they had been on their way to a flower farm. Now, a year later, the sorrow still hadn't subsided.

When he had come upon the ad on the Internet about this property for sale, he had jumped at the opportunity and had taken the chance to start over.

Hedges surrounded the garden which was laid out with the most extravagant flowers, from scarlet red Bee Balms to red and green Amaranth. Scarlet, Black Knight Scabiosas, also known as the Mourning Bride, decorated the centre of the garden. Butterflies fluttered all over the plot, others scurried from flower to flower. Most of the flowers in the garden were planted because they lured butterflies. Apparently the last owner had adored them.

A cottontail reddish brown rabbit darting from the bushes behind the garden caught his attention, its cotton ball tail bobbing up and down as it hopped onto the property. Something startled it and the rabbit zigzagged back into the forest.

Christopher watched the sun fall behind the panorama and turned around and strode to the cottage. He ambled up the steps and noticed the swing on the porch swaying back and forth in the wind. Except there was no wind, just a little breeze. Brushing it off, he headed for the door. There, on the doorstep, lay a single scarlet red Bee Balm.

He found it strange, but figured it was a welcoming gift from a neighbour. Christopher kneeled down and examined the flower. He had noticed these flowers grew to the back of the garden, at the boundary of the forest. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to pick one of these flowers. The person would have to have trudged through all the flowers to get to the Bee Balms.

Christopher settled for the night after having eaten the pepperoni pizza he had bought in town for dinner. He fell asleep on the couch while watching television.

Looking into a pair of angry emerald eyes made him shiver in fear. They turned from white to bloodshot and red rimmed, clouded over in seconds. This was not how he knew Janice to be. Why was she so mad at him? Bloodshot eyes turned into bloody pools. Thick crimson tears started trickling down her cheeks.

He woke with a start, adrenaline rushing through him. Trembling, he sat upright. Jumping to his feet, he reached for a flower on the table next to the empty pizza box.

"What the hell?"

He stared at the flower in his hand - a lavender Aster, to be precise. He swore the flower hadn't been there when he had fallen asleep. Looking at the clock against the wall, he noticed it was just after midnight. Someone must have entered the house while he was asleep. The lamp in the lounge flickered and everything went black.

Stumbling to the light switch, he flipped it on and off, realizing the power must have tripped off at the main switch. He felt a chill in the air, which gave him instant gooseflesh. Feeling his way to the kitchen, he pulled open drawers searching for a flashlight. He found one and clicked it on. Nothing. He started panicking, because he felt a cold breath down his neck.

Hitting the flashlight against his palm in frustration, it flickered on. Christopher swung round and violently shone the torch in all directions, searching. For what? He slowly shuffled step by step to the lounge, wildly shining the light around. His pulse was beating in his ears and his breathing was raggedly moving in and out of his mouth in gasping intervals.

He heard something at the window as he entered the room.

"Who's there?" he shouted in a trembling voice. Keeping the flashlight on the window, he saw the curtains flap. He slowly went closer. One of the curtains raised in the wind, different than before. It looked like something or someone was coming to him, dragging the curtain along. It was a woman, a transparent figure rushing closer, splattered with blood.

"Janice?"

He tried to move back but she was on top of him before he could do anything. He felt her hands push against his chest with such a force that he fell backwards, dropping the flashlight and falling with a thud to the floor.

When he hit the floor, the power came back on. Rushing to his feet, he searched for the woman. But she was gone. He made his way over to the couch and took a seat. With his heart thudding in his chest, he pushed his hand through his hair in despair.

He nervously took in his surroundings and his eyes fell on the lavender Aster. He gently picked it up and smelled it. He sat there holding the flower the rest of the night, not knowing what to make of everything that had happened. Christopher couldn't fall asleep again. He was too scared to close his eyes. His wife's eyes had haunted him twice in one day and she had attacked him. Was it her? Why? Why now? His eyelids became heavy and he eventually fell asleep at the crack of dawn.

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