There's a Girl in the Garden

"There's a girl in the garden..." Mark said, not the slightest bit worried. It happened quite often, being next to a pub. Drunk people would wonder into the garden every now and then. They'd typically stay for a few minutes before wondering off towards the street, or returning to the pub, so Mark simply thought nothing of it. She looked to be in her early to mid twenties, fiery red hair, pale skin, freckles, and a hint of hair dye in the bottom of her hair, where it curled just slightly. He decided she was beautiful, but far too young for him, before continuing about his day.

A few hours passed by, and Mark had noticed that the girl was still there. "Good god," He thought, "Perhaps I've been working too hard?" He thought about going out to check on her, but he ultimately decided against it. "I'll have Barbara check on her when she gets home." He thought, "I have too much that need to get done around here." That's when he noticed that she was standing perfectly still, with her hands covering her eyes. "Perhaps she's having a bad day then? Definitely don't need to be getting in the way of something like that." He thought to himself, knowing how bad young love could hurt, especially when it's over.

A few hours later, Barbara arrived, and Mark asked her to go check on the poor girl. "I didn't see anyone in the garden when I pulled up Mark, are you sure you saw a girl?" Barbara asked, looking fairly worried. "She's been there all day, just about." Mark said, "Maybe she needs help. She's still there, maybe you just didn't see her because of those damned rose bushes you had planted last summer?" Barbara nodded slowly for a second or two before walking out to the garden, leaving Mark staring out the window, worry lining his face. "She probably thinks I'm losing it, she probably thinks I'm finally going senile, doesn't she?" Mark thought to himself.

Barbara walked out to the middle of the garden, where the girl was standing silently, in the only empty space of the garden, frowned, and shouted back, "There's nobody here Mark! Maybe she left? Or maybe you've been working way too hard again?!" Mark knew what she meant. Again. She was talking about his first small bout of insanity. It was ancient history, of course, so he just ignored her and watched, stunned by what he saw.

The girl had looked up, and was now walking towards Barbara. As she made a big fuss about how Mark must, he watched and noticed. The girls face was sad, depressed even, but it was looking at it that hurt Mark the most. It was as if he could feel her pain.

As the girl came up just behind Barbara, his eyes widen in terror. She pulled something from her pocket that made him shudder: A box cutter. As soon as he realized what was about to happen, he screamed for Barbara, but it was too late. The girl slit her throat with the razor-sharp blade.

Blood flowered from his wife's neck in jagged torrents, her eyes wide with shock, and all he could do was watch. He looked up to see the girl and nearly died.

Where the girl had been standing just seconds ago, a cherry blossom tree now stood, silent and beautiful.