Rosemont -

When Elias clicked the latch, the house didn't creak; it sighed . The walls began to shift, the wallpaper blooming into actual vines that raced toward the ceiling. From the shadows of the grand staircase, a woman appeared. She wasn't a ghost; she was made of petals and briar, her eyes the color of moss.

The rusted iron gates of hadn’t been opened in forty years, yet every morning, a fresh bouquet of tea roses appeared on the threshold. Rosemont

Elias looked at his heavy iron tools, then at the dying garden visible through the window. He realized then that the heir hadn't hired him to unlock a door, but to break a curse that required a living soul to tend to the thorns. As the gates behind him vanished into a wall of thick, flowering brush, Elias set down his wrench and picked up a pair of shears. When Elias clicked the latch, the house didn't