Linda felt uncomfortable at the party, even with the beautiful
gardens and sparkling glass house. She knew that dark secrets were
the underlying the reason for the party.
The music stopped. The dance was over.
The music stopped. The dance was over.
Todd led her off the dance
floor, grasping her hand tightly in his. Hayden was blocking their way. He was standing at the edge of the dance floor, glaring at them as they drew
near. However, as soon as they reached him, he abruptly turned around and
marched away.
Todd escorted her to the
refreshment table. There were salads, sliced meats, fish dishes, soups, arrays
of fruits and vegetables, and a large display of desserts. She wasn’t the least
bit hungry, but smiled as he filled their plates. They sat down at a table for two
beside one of the tall windows overlooking the sweeping gardens.
Linda gazed out at the
paved walkways, softly lit by torches and the soothing light from the full
moon. The gardens were filled with rows of bushes, many of which were
colorfully spotted with red roses. Dainty white metal benches were scattered
throughout the meandering walkways that zigzagged through the lines of bushes.
The most beautiful spot in
the garden was the large fountain, where water spouted from a mermaid’s mouth
down her half-human limbs. On the surface the mermaid appeared to be just a
statue, permanently posed in her position. But her eyes revealed a whole other
story: a story of hope of one day returning to the ocean. A profound sadness was
reflected in her frozen expression.
Party guests were slowly
escaping the loud music to be outside in the moonlight. Linda wanted to be
strolling with Todd through the peaceful gardens—just as carefree as the other guests— without her usual fears or anxieties about unexplained
disappearances and creeping shadows.
This
scene is so romantic, so why do I feel afraid? Why can’t I relax and enjoy the music and the
company? She knew the answer: it was
because her friends were being terrorized. The party and the gardens appeared
peaceful, but the perpetrator was probably here tonight plotting his next
move—just like the rose bushes which were beautiful to admire, but had sharp thorns
that drew blood.
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