Chapter Text
Dreams never came to him easily. But when they did, he never usually remembered them. And they never felt this vivid or lucid. Arun felt like he was walking in the middle of a hedge maze. Smack dab in the middle of a rose garden. A rose garden with vibrant red roses on a heart-shaped tree. He had to blink a little to figure out what was going on. This usually didn’t happen in the middle of the night. But then again, today he had witnessed a lot of new anomalies.
Was it his imagination or did those roses look a little fake? They shone too brightly to have been a natural red. That color felt too artificial to be real. Curious, he reached a hand out, finger extended, and wiped it on a rose. He was immediately met with a wet sensation on his fingertips. A pink smear on the bloom from where he had touched it.
“Paint?…” he questioned. Rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, it smeared all over his skin. Voices sounded off nearby. Arun whipped his head around to look for the source. His eyes darted to and fro. Searching. For whatever sounded like it was… singing? And whistling. They were whistling.
“Hurry and paint the roses red,” he heard someone call. “Hurry before the flowers wither.”
Arun’s feet acted before the rest of his brain could think. Running, he followed the chanting voices. Through the maze and through the garden. Until he came across another clearing with a heart-shaped rose tree in the middle. Before him, three men shaped like cards carried buckets of red paint. All of whom had clovers on their fronts. One had a single clover, another had two, the last had three. In their free hands were paintbrushes dripping with the red substance. Waddling side by side like crabs, the card-men scurried to and fro in painting the white roses.
“Hurry, hurry!” cried the third card-man. “We have to paint them all red!”
Arun had no idea what was going on. Apparently, his dreams had a kickstart from everything that had happened today. From surviving that ink blot monster to driving Riddle off all the way to coming back to the dorm. It must’ve made his brain go haywire.
“Why do you have to paint the white roses red?” asked a small voice. Arun jumped, the voice was alarmingly close to him. His head whipped to the side. And his eyes widened. Beside him stood a rather pretty girl with golden hair and a blue dress. Her baby blue eyes glanced up at the card-men and their chore in curiosity. Arun would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two. She nearly made him jump out of his skin.
“Huh?” asked the card-men. “Well, the fact is, Miss,” one took the time to explain. He had two clovers on his front side. “We planted the white roses by mistake.” Huh. Interesting, Arun mused. Can’t say he hasn’t made that same blunder.
“The Queen, she likes them red,” explained the card-man with a single clover. “If she saw white instead, each of us would quickly lose our heads.”
“Goodness!” cried the girl whilst holding her hand to her throat. Arun mimicked her gesture. Cringing in fear at the thought. What kind of monarch does that to her own soldiers? And for such a minor mistake? For sure, he’d hate to live under such a tyrant lest he loses his head. Literally or otherwise.
“Since this is the part we dread,” stated the card-man with three clovers. “We're painting the roses red.”
For One So Small
Coming soon...