Short Story Collection

The Burning Bush

Mad they call me, mad. I implore that you hear me out. I can say to you that I am not mad like they say, but very sane indeed. I never intended to hurt anyone, but when I was hired to work as a gardener for a rich man, that is when it started. The young owner of the house wanted me to do what I thought was best for his garden, but not to touch his rosebush. He would tend to that himself. His garden was perfect but there was always a certain vibe that the garden gave me. The feeling that I felt when I walked into that garden was bewildering. Whenever I went into the garden, that dreadful bush took up what seemed like the whole garden and stared at me. It seemed like it was taunting me saying, "Come tend to me. You want to, but you know you can't. Just do it." I knew I would get fired if I even so much as touch it. Some days, I would come very close to just trimming some branches off or I would ignore that area all together. I did not know what to do! The atrocity would SCREAM at me and YELL and seem like it was having a fit! I did not know what to do. I could have easily killed myself. I knew that my aversion toward that plant would drive it to it's death.  

When the young man would come to check on me and give me my lunch, I would act so nice, with such dissimulation, that I do not think he suspected that I was about to ruin his beautiful garden. One day I could not bear the pain! One of the branches was reaching out to me, just like the hand of the devil trying to drag me into the depths of hell. I had to cut that terrible plant. That day, I just grabbed my shears and almost ripped the branch off with such gesticulation that it seemed like a dream. That night, I lay in my bed thinking about that terrible crime that I had just committed. Thinking if it was the right thing or not. Phantasms seemed like they were circling my head telling me what I did was wrong and I should admit my deed. 

When I went back to the garden the next morning, the owner did not seem to have noticed anything. I walked over to the rosebush to admire my handiwork that I did yesterday, and the branch was back! That branch could have easily DOUBLED in size! Either I just dreamed my deed or the rosebush was cursed! The bush seemed like it was laughing at me saying "I have spoiled your fun, have I not?" I had to arrest the damned bush. The end was near. I could feel it and I knew the rosebush could too. 

At lunchtime, the owner came out to me and saw me holding my shears against the base of the damned bush. He yelled for me to stop, and when he was going to push me out of the way, I spun around and cut his torso. His chest and head were on the ground to my left, and his legs on my right. Now that he was gone, I could do anything I want to the bush and the garden. I would burn it. Burn the garden with a conflagration that would not only spread through the garden, but through the whole neighborhood, to the whole town! Before I set that bush on fire, I reached in to the bush to pull it out of the ground. When I reached in, I felt a sharp pain and pulled my arm out. When I pulled it out, the plant got its retribution; all that was left of my arm was a little stump covered in blood and a rose. By the end of the day, I ended up burning that whole garden (house, rosebush, and all). But while that bush was burning, I felt a strange pain in the arm that had been cut. A feeling like someone was burning my arm. The phantasms of the bush were making me feel the same pain! The agony was unbearable! I picked up my shears and cut off my own arm to end the endless pain! I had to use my shirt to stop the blood. 

Later that day, the fire department came and saw me walking with my shirt covered in blood and wrapped around my arm. When they asked who I was and what happened, I told them that the house just caught fire! The owner was inside and I tried to save him, but I was too late. The house was already in flames.  

I walked away from that scene, laughing malevolently, and I turned to admire my handiwork. I must have had a look on my face, or the police must have heard me laughing, because they took me and locked me up in jail. Now I am in a small, mold- smelling cell in a straight jacket. My cell partner, some in here for murder, agreed to write this story down. Now the world will know of my amazing deed and hopefully follow me! HA!

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This is my dark Poe- like story that I just found on my computer! haha! hope you like it!!

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