Blood Rose

A story I wrote for my English literature coursework.

The deep, burning eyes of Eric Levingston are staring at me from across the room. I cannot help but feel their intense heat every time I try to turn my head away. I feel them follow me around the corridors in our small and crumbling high school. He is not my type, and I feel that I should not be his. But Eric is like walking danger. He is the fire that you cannot help but be drawn to, until the smoke traps you in your place. Eric moved here four months ago in the month of September �" just in time for the start of our school year. Ever since, I have been attracted to him in ways that I have never felt before. Recently, we have started talking, as we sit next to each other in Archaeology. Despite my girly persona and floral name �" Lily, I have a fascination with murders, the supernatural and danger. Eric seemed mysterious from the first time we spoke, as if there was something he was hiding away from everyone. Eric has deep brown eyes and dark brown hair, so dark it could be black. He is tall and thin and wears dark black clothes. His hair twists into a slight quiff at the top of his head, whilst the rest lies in a neat mess.

As the bell rings for the end of the day, I see Eric stand up and walk over to me. There is a slight sparkle in his eyes.
“So I hear something strange happened in Crowhill Park last night. Some woman on the radio said she was walking through the grave yard and heard deadly screams and then blacked out or something. Wanna check it out?” Eric asks me, his voice sounding sarcastically intrigued. How could I possibly refuse this? Although we've spoken every Archaeology lesson, there have always been 29 other people around us. The park is on the way home so I can walk through it as a short cut, although I don't know where Eric lives. I've never really seen him walking home.

After walking for ten minutes, we finally arrive at the one hundred year old graveyard. Originally fields, this cemetery was built to account for the dead soldiers of World War I. Walking through it always seems to give a chilling feeling. As we reach the old stone church, where funerals take place, Eric stops walking and leans against its cold and crumbling wall.
“Seeing anything strange? Because I'm not” he grumbles. The tone of his voice always seems to sound sarcastic; I'm guessing he didn't expect to see much around here. I lean against the wall, next to Eric �" probably standing closer to him than I should be. After a silent minute, he looks over at me, with the same twinkling eyes and smirk on his face as when he asked me to venture out to this graveyard.
“What?” I ask him, after the time of staring has become unacceptable.
“I dunno-” he starts, before slightly laughing and shaking his head.
“There was no woman on the radio” he continues. “I just wanted to get you on your own”. The look in his eyes could either be the expression of evil or a hero. I feel my heartbeat start to rise until I can feel my pulse all through my body.

“I don't unders-” I begin, but Eric turns to me and places his long finger over my lips before I can finish. His other hand now lies flat on the wall to my left. Within one swift movement, he takes his finger off my lips and places this hand on the small of my back. It pulls me towards him, so every part of our bodies are touching. The hand that was originally holding him up against the wall is now gently smoothing my hair down and those dark, burning eyes are looking into mine. Despite their colour appearing almost black, it feels as though I cannot look into them for more than a few seconds �" as if they will blind me like the sun. When I try to escape his gaze, Eric pulls me in closer until our lips are touching. He kisses me so gently that I can barely feel his lips on mine, but still, the gentle kiss sends electric, warming vibes to every part of me. I am lost in him and no longer feel as though I am standing in a ‘haunted’ graveyard, but instead floating in the air �" travelling through the wind like an autumn leaf on a gentle breeze �" forgetting how to breathe. When the delicate moment is over, Eric presses his nose against mine, before lightly pushing me against the church wall once more. He then kisses me again, firmer this time �" with a sense of certainty that I am the only person he wants. His thumb strokes my back before his hand moves up to my shoulders, and then back down to my hip. Our breaths are getting deeper as our lip movements become faster. His fist clenches in my hair while the other grabs at my waist.

We stay this way for a few minutes before realising we must stop. After all, I feel like we’re being watched by the ghosts from these graves. As we start to walk past the remaining graves and take the exit out of the park, Eric places his hand in mine, our fingers laced together.
“Why don’t you come to my house tonight?” Eric asks in a cautious way. Something within me cannot refuse this offer.
“Sure, where do you live?” I reply with a smile on my face. Eric tells me that he lives on Ravendale Drive. I’ve heard of this road before but have never been on it. After a few minutes, we part ways �" me to my house and him to his.

At half past six, I venture down Ravendale Drive to find Eric’s house; he told me it is number 7. Each house seems colossal compared to the small bungalow that I live in. The houses all have large gardens surrounding them, making each house 20ft apart. When I reach his house, it seems very dark. However, it is the kind of mysterious that I find intriguing and the kind of house that seems to suit him perfectly. What intrigues me even more that surrounding his house are hundreds of red roses �" the red so simultaneously bright and dark that it is the exact colour of blood. There is something so beautiful and yet ghostly about them. I am so mesmerized that I bend down to touch them. As my hand brushes over the petals, a chill runs down my spine. For some reason, I suddenly have a sense of fear �" as if something is telling me to get away.
“You like them?” Eric’s voice breaks the deadly silence and I spin around to see him standing beside me. His eyes glow under the light of the moon, in a way that looks eerie. Eric then begins to laugh �" realising his presence has scared me. He invites me in and we both step into the ancient-looking house.

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"The body of missing girl - Lily Albert, has been found in an abandoned house on Ravendale Drive. No witnesses came forward to the police and they had no suspects or leads to go on. The houses surrounding the scene were derelict so the death was unlikely to be seen or heard by others. The girl was found when police decided to invade the derelict houses, suspecting the body could be hidden within the abandoned buildings. Found at the scene was a blood soaked knife, however no fingerprints were found. Multiple stab wounds were found on the body but it cannot be confirmed that this was a murder as the number cannot rule out self-infliction. There was no other furniture within the house except the bed she was laid on. Her arms were crossed across her chest with a single blood-red rose enclosed in her hands.” That was the police report. With no evidence or leads to go on, the investigation was discontinued. The rose found in Lily’s hand was not taken from the garden as it contained one more rose than the number Lily Albert saw on the night of her death. Although, the number of roses within the garden coincidently matched the number of suspicious teenage deaths within the county of Apenamshire �" where Lily lived �" in the past five years. No other bodies had been found at the address previously and no other bodies �" including those of the other deaths were ever found. Lily's mother told the police that Lily had informed her that she was going to her friend’s house on the night of her death. Her other daughter, Amelia also told the police that Lily had mentioned the name Eric Levingston to her before leaving. The teachers at the school Lily attended had not heard of an Eric Levingston and no records of him were made within the school or town of Crowhill. Lily's fellow school peers described her as a happy but somewhat lonely girl who often found herself staring out of windows during Archaeology and other subjects. The previous owners of 7, Ravendale Drive had died 21 years before the death �" having no children or family to inherit the estate. In the years following Lily Albert's death, no other murders were committed and no sufficient evidence could explain the events of that night.