The ceiling split open with a groan. A thick cloud of dust filled the air. Lilith choked back a cry, afraid the noise would wake everyone, her grandfather especially; but she soon relaxed and allowed herself to breathe, to Panther's relief. He suffocated in her grip. It seemed nobody heard a thing. Oblivious to the discomfort of being pressed between thorny canes, Lilith stared at the unfolding sight, as room partitions crumbled.
For a moment, she caught a glimpse of her neighbors. Trude Brandt snored under a multitude of blankets, removable dentures glistening on her bedside table. All four Rosenthals slept quietly, their beds neatly lined in one row. Irma Schlitzberger's ponderous shape spread over a bare mattress, covers bunched in a corner. Next to her, shrouded in layers of lavender, wheezed the twins. Gwen sucked on her thumb. Daphne clutched a stuffed elephant. The floor was littered with candy wrappers, empty snack packets, and shopping bags, their contents spilling.
"What a mess," whispered Lilith.
"I said they're elephant-hugging piglets, didn't I?" growled Panther; but they already crashed by the red gallery above, broke through the roof, and emerged into the chilly night.
"Wonder where grandfather sleeps. Why did we stop?" said Lilith with alarm.
The heads congregated, swaying dangerously.
"Where's the mansion?" Lilith eyed the ground three stories below. A monstrous trunk protruded from a mound of dirt, with no sign of the mansion.
"Think, madam, think," growled Panther. "I was of higher opinion of your intelligence."
"Oh, of course. Make fun of me now, why don't you," said Lilith miserably. "How dreadfully forgetful of me. It's underground for the night. May I ask what's going to happen now?"
"Whatever ze garden wants to happen," said Agatha's head solemnly, peering into the distance.
"What exactly does it want to happen?" Lilith pressed on.
"Little miss iz asking too many questions. Little miss iz trying our patience," Agatha's head hissed, while others sneered in an unpleasant way. "Simple water and a little blood won't do for questions like zese."
Lilith's stomach shrunk. "I'll give you more of my blood, if that's what you want."
"Madam!" Panther barked.
"Will you, meine kleine? We liked it. It waz zo sweet." Monika's head passed a tongue over its lips.
"I want a bloody lollipop," said Daphne's head hungrily.
"Lollipops are too hard. I want a bloody licorice," chimed in Gwen's.
"Never had a bloody licorice. What's it taste like?" asked Lilith's head.
Others called out their preferences for potential blood consumption, until their muttering turned into indiscernible babble. They encircled Lilith greedily. Monika's arms gravitated toward Panther.
A sigh full of pain made them freeze. It gradually turned into a drawn-out moan, escalated to a cry, and died with a reverberating echo. Lilith's hair stood on end. Panther's fur bristled.
"Rosehead," they whispered in unison.
"Little miss, please do hold on."
Lilith hastily removed her blue beret, lest it decided to slide off. With a jolt, the rosebush grew, shooting into the sky and arching over the garden. Flocks of sleeping crows dotted the bushes in patches of breathing feathers, yet none of them stirred at their passing.
Fog unspooled in thick waves. They stopped and hung directly over the clearing shaped like a roofless rotunda.
"Now watch, watch clozely," said Agatha's head.
YOU ARE READING
Rosehead
FantasyMisunderstood and overmedicated, twelve-year-old Lilith Bloom finds the prospect of a grand family reunion decidedly dull... That is, until she discovers that the rose garden surrounding her grandfather's Berlin mansion is, well, completely and utte...
