Of Roses and Thorns

I made my way from the bathroom toward the kitchen. Glancing at the TV in the living room, I watched to see how the weather would pan out for the day. I had hopes for reading Rose's diary out on a float in the pool. As I neared the kitchen door, I slowed down when the house went silent.

I stopped. Peaking back into the living room, I saw that the TV was off. My eyes traveled upward. The ceiling fan slowed until it came to a halt. I listened. The air was off. A thought occured to me and I headed into the kitchen. Both clocks on the microwave and stove were black.

The power was off. My gaze drifted toward the windows. The daylight was brilliant and I saw hardly a single cloud in the sky. The news hadn't said anything about storms or power outages. I wondered if there were people working on the powerlines nearby. That was the only logical explanation. I rolled my eyes. The house would be getting hot fast. The pool would be my only solace.

A sound caught my attention. I held my breath and listened to the faint noise. I couldn't place what it could be. It was close. I scanned the kitchen, following the source until my eyes fell across the kitchen counter beside the stove. There, just beyond the skillets, I found what I was looking for.

It was a knife. My brow furrowed as I walked toward the counter. The same repetitive sound pervaded the fresh silence of the house. It didn't make any sense. I drew closer and stopped when I realized that the knife was spinning round and round on the marble countertop. I didn't know what to think. It just kept going.

Swallowing hard, I eased closer. The knife continued to spin at the same speed. The blade gleamed in the sunlight from the window. My eyes darted across the kitchen, but I saw no one. I was alone with a spinning kitchen knife. Slowly, I reached out. My hand trembled. What would happen if I stopped it? My mind screamed for me to leave it be.

My fingers were inches from the knife when it began to slow. I watched breathless as it turned like the hand of a clock. With every second the knife spun slower. The blade made one last round, then ultimately froze. It was pointed in my direction. My mouth hung open. I didn't want to move. I waited for something, anything to happen. After what seemed like minutes, I exhaled quietly and reached for the kinfe.

Skillets went flying off the stove. They clanged loudly across the floor. Cupboards banged open. Plates crashed. I screamed at the sudden chaos. I stumbled back. The refrigerator door flew wide. Condiments went skittering across the tile. The toaster jerked itself from the plugin and banged loudly at my feet.

All was silent again.

I lowered my arms from my head. My eyes were wide, staring at the sudden mess the kitchen had become. Stuff was everywhere, all over the floor. I took a step back. Then another. I watched the knife on the counter. I had to get out of the kitchen. I backed away until I was outside the kitchen door and in the hallway.

Glass burst into the air beside my face. I screamed and stumbled back. I stared at the wall in shock. Another picture exploded before my eyes, its frame rattling on the wall. It was the picture of Adam and I on our honeymoon. Another picture shattered and sprayed glass. I backpedalled down the hall.

A hole burst open in the drywall. I looked on in horror. Another hole blasted wide, closer to me. Then another. Closer. Another. With loud bangs.

Blam. Blam! Blam, blam, blam!

I darted into the bedroom and slammed the door. The sounds had stopped. I stared wide eyed at the door. I was trembling. My breathing was erratic. I gingerly stepped away from the door. All I could hear was the gallop of my heartbeat in my ears.

Something heavy crashed against the other side of the door, rattling it on its hinges. I yelped. Again the door was slammed by some incredible force. And again. The pounding was deafening. I screamed. Something was trying to break down the damn door!

I scurried to the opposite side of the bed while the onslaught continued. Peering over the bed, I watched as the door was beaten. It trembled and even flexed. The framing around the door cracked. I searched my nightstand. No, my phone was in the living room. My mind was racing. Just when a thought entered my head, the violent bangs would batter it away. I was shaking and screaming. Tears welled up in my eyes. I covered my ears and squeezed my eyes shut.

The sounds stopped.

Still quivering and sobbing, I peeked at the door. The beating had ceased. I was scared to make a move. My skin felt like it was on fire, yet my insides were frozen. I waited for what seemed like an hour. I just knew the door would burst open at any minute.

Something flashed in my peripheral vision. My eyes darted toward the nightstand. I stared blankly at the blinking display on my alarm clock. The power had come back on. I breathed. I kept saying it over and over in my head until the words meant something. The power had come back on. The power was back on.

I tiptoed over the broken glass in the hallway. My trembling hands were raised at my sides, keeping me safely between the walls in the hall. The holes in the drywall gaped at me in silence. I peered out into the living room, then the kitchen. There was no one in the house. The ceiling fan was spinning. The digital displays on every appliance blinked.

I looked out the window toward the pool.

****

The house was silent when I opened the door. No TV or music. That was an oddity in our house. Rachel usually had the whole house going when I got home from work. I did notice, however, that every single light in the house was turned on. I wondered what our electric bills would start to look like. Shaking my head, I kicked off my boots and headed toward the kitchen.

"Baby?" Maybe she was taking a bath. "Babe, you better have supper ready or..."

My smile faded when I stepped into the kitchen. The room was a mess. Skillets were everywhere. I saw that bacon grease and dried egg bits still clung to them. Sauces, ketchup, pickles, and all manner of things covered the tile. Cabinet doors were wide open and their dishes were broken and scattered.

I didn't know what to think. My mind became a jumble of worry and fear. I looked toward the back door. Through the glass, I spotted my wife reclining in her chair on the deck. Stepping over the mess in the floor, I headed toward the door. Rachel was staring out at the water blankly. She turned when she heard the door and offered a weak smile. I crossed the deck and took a seat in the chair beside her.

"Baby, are you alright?" I asked. "What the hell happened in there?"

She shook her head and swept a black lock of hair from her eyes.

"I haven't been inside all day."

I paused, unsure of what to say. She turned and offered me a feeble grin.

"If you don't like the kitchen," she said, "then don't look in the hallway."

"What is going on? Tell me what happened to you."

Rachel scrunched up her face. "I've kinda been trying to figure that out myself. Been doing a little research."

She reached under her chair and produced the leather diary. I glanced from the book to my wife. Her expression didn't change. I sighed and took the diary.

"Baby, what is this?" I groaned.

"I read quite a bit more," Rachel said. "Had plenty of time. Turns out we don't have a ghost. We have two."

I stopped flipping the pages and looked at her. "What?"

"There's two of them."

"Sweetheart-"

"Rose wasn't just detailing her sexual encounters," Rachel said ignoring me. "She was keeping a memoir of her affairs. Every single one. Toward the middle she starts talking about her husband, Jack. Talked about how mean and ignorant he was, how shitty he treated her. She got too carried away."

Rachel scoffed and laughed.

"Rose got around. A lot. And it caught up to her in a bad way."

I watched Rachel as she spoke. Her demeanor was so strange. It was like she was being stretched between so many emotions. I didn't want to interrupt her, no matter how absurd it all sounded.

"He found out about the handkerchief, all the favors she left," Rachel said with a hollow voice. "Jack found the diary and the handkerchief. He figured out where she was going next. Drank himself crazy. He drove to that house, it was some photographer or something. He drank outside in the driveway while they were inside fucking."

I absently leafed through the pages trying to find the final entries of the diary. I glanced up at Rachel when she chuckled. The sound was void of sincerity. My wife looked as though she were going to cry. Seeing her face like that hurt me inside. My emotions tumbled over each other. I wanted to toss the diary as far as I could and be through with it. I wanted to shake her and reason with her. I wanted to pull her close and comfort her. My mouth opened but it was Rachel that spoke first.

"He really fucked with them, Adam." My wife's lip trembled as she spoke. "He was a twisted man. First thing he did was cut the power. Then he started busting windows randomly. Jack got in the house... he, he lured that photographer guy out into the dark and... a-and he stalked him. He stalked him and f-fucked with his head. Jack stabbed him to death, and then he broke down the bedroom door and he stabbed Rose, over and over and cut her throat and-"

I reached for Rachel and put my arm around her.

"Rachel, baby, stop." I felt her chest heaving. "Just... stop reading this damn diary. Just throw it away and forget about it. It's scaring the shit out of you."

Rachel gently pushed me back and looked up into my eyes.

"The diary isn't what's scaring me." She was all but yelling. "What is scaring me is the fucking kitchen exploding and pictures breaking. What's scaring me is that I don't feel safe in the house anymore. And that I tried to call you out here seven times today and you didn't even text me to see if I was okay!"

I sighed. "Honey, I've told you before, if I'm working the phone stays in the truck. I was down in a twenty foot trench with a sewer line and-"

"That's not the point!" Rachel snapped. "Are you listening to me? Something tried to break down our bedroom door today!"

I nodded. "A ghost."

"Yes. A ghost!" Rachel was fuming. "I know it's so hard for you to believe, 'Mr. Skeptic'."

"Because it's absurd!"

Rachel stared at me in shock. I swallowed hard and gathered my composure.

"Look, I have been listening to you," I told her. "I thought about this all day. And I know you better than anyone. You're... you're reading this book that you found, and it's all about love affairs and it's got you worked up. On top of that, the woman you say you see is blonde. Even I dream about stuff like this on occasion. She's a blonde, and she's cheating, and I just think that because of everything that's happened with us there's a lot of guilt you've held down for-"

"Karen?" Rachel shouted. "You think this is about Karen?"

I patted the air. "I'm just saying that you've been through a lot of-"

"I'm fucking guilty about being a homewrecker so I'm making up ghost stories. Is that it?"

I tried to keep my cool. When opened my mouth to speak I only managed a stutter.

"How the hell does that make sense, Adam?" Rachel asked. "Did I trash the kitchen and punch holes in the wall? I felt so bad for Karen that I dreamt up a fantasy about fucking her in the pool? Did I just buy that stupid handkerchief and write this diary? All because I'm a whore that can't cope with replacing a bitch that was ten times the woman I am?"

"Baby, I didn't say that."

"No." Rachel glared at me. "You didn't have to. It's not enough to not believe me. You think I'm crazy. Is that what I am to you? Just a naive little twenty-five year old slut that can't cook? I'll never live up to her, will I?"

I shook my head and rubbed my face. "You know that's not true. You're overreacting. Baby, think about it, you said you read that Rose was killed by her husband. How could she have written about her own death in her diary? How is it even possible that she wrote about that night, about him cutting the power and stabbing that guy?"

Rachel stared at me blankly. For several moments, neither of us said a word. I followed her gaze when she turned to the setting sun. Under different circumstances, the two of us might have been cuddled together watching the orange watercolors in that sky. I wanted a rewind button. I wished that Rachel had never found that stupid diary in the first place.

"I'm calling Rita tomorrow," Rachel mumbled absently.

I reached for her. "Sweetheart, please don't start-"

"Don't!" Rachel batted my hand aside. "Just... just leave me alone."

I stared at her. Her lips were a firm line. Her eyes were wild and her nostrils flared. That was certainly the Rachel I knew well. I also knew that the only thing that could extinguish her fires now, was time. Feeling hopeless, I stood and looked down at my young wife.

"Honey, please don't stay out here all night."

Rachel stared at the water. I sighed and headed toward the house. It seemed I had quite the mess to clean up. Thoughts argued amongst each other in my head even as I reached for the back door. I heard Rachel call out to me just as I stepped inside.

"Whatever you do, keep the lights on."

****

My eyes opened. A mosquito or something must have woken me. I rubbed my neck. It was dark out. I had fallen asleep in my chair. A thought crossed my mind and I turned to look at the house. The lights were still on, most of them anyway. I saw Adam walk past the window in the kitchen. He was probably cleaning.

Stale anger bubbled to the surface within me. I tried not to replay the fight with Adam in my head. We were supposed to be starting something new, something wonderful. We were going to raise a family and put Karen in the past. Terrible shit had happened to me in the house, and Adam brought up her. I knew he still thought about her. Did he regret leaving her? Was that all he saw in me? Was I just the pretty little crazy chick, his next new wife to play with?

I rubbed my sinuses. It hurt my head to even think of ghosts, or Karen, or Adam. I glanced up toward the water. The air was still hot. My skin was clammy and my limbs were sore from sitting in my chair for so long. I sat up, stretched, and climbed to my feet. Adjusting my swimsuit bottoms, I trudged over to the pool ladder. I dipped my toes into the water.

God it felt like bathwater. It wouldn't hurt to go for a relaxing little swim. My calves were in the water when I stopped on the top step. I considered the water for a moment longer, remembering the day before. I could still see her hair, her full round breasts, and those bright blue eyes. I turned. The lights were still on in the house.

I shook my head. I couldn't allow myself to think that way. That made it real. Stepping in slowly, I lowered my body into the warm water. I swept my arms and glided across the pool. The aches in my neck and back seemed to drift away. With a deep breath, I dove down into the pool.

It was so quiet. The soothing water cloaked me fully. I swam slowly across the bottom of the pool and allowed my mind to clear. I wasn't wearing a clip, and I could feel my hair soaring behind my head through the water. I wished that I could find a dark spot in the deep, curl up, and fade away into serenity. My lungs begged for air.

When I surfaced and wiped the water from my eyes, I looked up at the scattered speckles of stars in the sky. The sight was amazing. I wished the day had gone different. Skinny dipping. I wished Adam and I could have swam naked beneath the stars and made love before the sky like I had dreamt the day before. He would have pointed and named the constellations and I would have stared at their reflections in his eyes.

I turned to see that the lights were still on. The kitchen lights danced across the pool water. It was in that glare that I spotted an object floating on the surface. A warm breeze blew and the thing floated closer. The winds carried the sweet scent of flowers. I could make out the pattern of a rose as the handkerchief came near.

"Hey."

It was just a whisper, but I spun and cried out. I saw her there, not a few feet from me. Her blonde hair still appeared to glow in the night. Her whole body did. She was like a firefly in the dark water. I could see her smiling face above the surface and her naked form below. Her pale breasts stared up at me as she paddled closer.

I couldn't move. She came near enough that I could smell her breath. My mouth watered and my eyes fell to her lips. I wanted just a taste. Her fingers brushed my waist. Our legs slid together. Shining blue discs stared into me. I could see her fair skin and I ached to touch her cheek.

I shivered and blinked my eyelids hard. With a gasp I shoved against her and stepped away.

"W-what do you want?" I blurted.

The blonde woman looked incredulous. She floated closer, the ends of her hair swirling on the surface of the water.

"I want you," she replied softly.

I cut my eyes down at the water. "Was that him? Was that Jack?"

There was silence for several seconds. When I looked up, I saw her twirling her finger in the water, the handkerchief trailing behind it. She grinned sheepishly with her eyes tracing the flowing movement.

"It was Jack, wasn't it?" I repeated.

Rose's blue eyes found mine. She bit her lip. When she spoke I felt dreamy.

"He found out about us," Rose said. "He knows now."

My lip trembled. I could still see the holes bursting open, chasing me down the hall.

Gentle hands slid around my waist. I was in her arms. Rose was inches from my face. The warmth of her breath hit my lips. I was locked in the pools of her gaze.

"You're with me now," she whispered. "I can give you more than he can."

I blinked. The words seemed so familiar somehow.

"What?" I studied the woman. "Who... are you talking about? Adam?"

Rose brought her lips to mine, but it was Adam's face that flashed in my head.

I pushed her away and splashed toward the ladder. Frantically, I climbed from the pool without daring to look back toward Rose. My eyes darted toward the dark windows of the house. I wiped the water from my eyes and hurried toward the door.

She was there.

I stared dumbfounded at Rose, who stood in front of me naked beneath the stars. Her breasts gleamed oddly in the night. Her lips curled back into a ghastly smile. I took a step back and she advanced slowly. It was so hard not to look at her. That pale body was so curvy. Her thighs slid past one another, and the sight of that smooth flesh made me moist. I eyed the patch of blonde hair where they met. My body shuddered and grew weak. I felt the scream dissipate in my throat. All that came out was a gasping moan.

Rose slipped one hand around my neck and laced her fingers into the strands of my wet hair. I wanted her to pull. Distantly, I felt my top fall away. Our bare breasts touched and the hair stood on my arms. Her waist felt so small and narrow. I teased at the crests of her ass cheeks. My mouth hung open. I knew what was next but I felt like I'd fall to pieces if she didn't hurry.

Our mouths locked and our tongues danced. Rose tasted like cherries and cool whip. I couldn't get enough. I groaned when she tugged my hair downward causing my head to turn sharply. Her tongue dove deeper.

My eyes flew open when I felt her fingers. Her hand was down the front of my bottoms. Rose caressed my lips in circles, but the sensations made it feel like a hurricane. One fingertip slid low, splitting me apart and dabbing into my hole. My hand shot up to clutch a wad of her blonde hair. I could hardly stand on my wobbling legs. All I could do was hold on while her hand slithered into me.

I was drifting downward like a feather. The chair. I was in my chair. Rose was there with me. My legs folded in and she pulled the bottoms away. Her large blue eyes shone up at me from between my thighs. Shuddering and gasping, I grasped the bare flesh of my breasts and pulled until I was pinching my nipples. I saw her smile. Rose sank down, with her pale ass jutting high behind her, and stuck out her tongue.