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The Weed Among the Roses

The dark room gave off a stench of wild red roses, and the walls glowed a strange haze of purple that rippled through the moist air of the peculiar space. The only source of light emanated from the central table light, hovering on the unimaginably long dining table, complete with a various array of odd cutleries from Asia, France, and South Africa, and beckoning the few personas in the room. Tea cups were evident, almost stacked up on each other in huge numbers that overwhelmed the capacity of the candle-lit, cloth covered surface of the table, all holding the same china design, fragile yet pristine. 

A young girl in a linen dress sat by the stairs as she marveled at the most perplexing surroundings she was in, after which deciding to take part in the extremely popular activity of wandering around like the many other guests, after remembering her father had once done the same. The girl noticed that those that arrived to this isolated and otherwise uninhabited part of the world were mostly in an assortment of black tie attire, wandering around with champagne glasses and discussing matters that were only gibberish in her own mind. 

The girl soon began to realise the main source of charisma of the night was from a man, perhaps in his late forties; quite plump with a bright orange furry beard and a distinctly wild grin that caused his eyes to almost widen and glow. Seeming to be engaging in most of the conversations, as if owning the place, he was however not todays host. 

Suddenly, the clock tower of the local church rang with a bellowing metallic sound that resonated through the house like a ravenous tiger for its prey. The guests looked around, perhaps looking for someone and slowly gathering towards the very peculiar dining table. The girl, confused, did the same, only to find that she could not see past the vast crowd of people. Saddened, she began to walk off when a fairly short man stopped her. She replied “sorry” but it seemed he was not listening. He rubbed his short grey goatee before reaching into the depths of his right pocket to reveal an astonishingly beautiful pocket watch, and slowly examined the time. The room was silent as the girl realised this was the man they were waiting for. He solemnly nodded as he returned the watch to his pocket and looked up at his audience. The girl, excited as to what the man had to say, now impatiently waited to find out what all the fuss was all about.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” He said, deep with thought. “I am rather an impatient man so I will try and make this quick.” He paused, “Unfortunately, Mr Brown cannot join us this evening, but we must continue with today’s most important matter,” He turned round to face the girl who had otherwise been ignored the entire night, and spoke, 

“Welcome back, Alice.”