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    Die, Blossom, Bloom
    Die, Blossom, Bloom
    Die, Blossom, Bloom
    Ebook77 pages1 hour

    Die, Blossom, Bloom

    By Steve Boseley

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    About this ebook

    A pensioner with a newfound love of gardening, TED HARRIS is haunted by the memories of his wife’s death. A regular competitor in the village ‘In Bloom’ competition, GERALDINE BUTLER-THOMPSON is keen to put Ted down at any opportunity, and is more than happy to share her thoughts on his garden.
    As Ted’s life with his wife is revealed, we get a glimpse into the love that they shared, before things started to go wrong. The choices that he made haunt him still, and Butler-Thompson pushes him to reveal more than he is willing to, leading to a showdown with JORDAN, Butler-Thompson’s son.
    This confrontation pushes Ted towards what he sees as an inevitable conclusion, and a final showdown with Butler-Thompson.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSteve Boseley
    Release dateMay 9, 2016
    ISBN9781311184115
    Die, Blossom, Bloom
    Author

    Steve Boseley

    Steve writes horror and disturbing fiction that has appeared in many online horror publications, as well as in several horror anthologies. He has also had work published by Alfie Dog Fiction. His first novella, Die, Blossom, Bloom, was published in 2016, quickly followed by his first collection of short stories, A Sinister Six. Steve wants to connect with readers by writing about the ordinary and mundane, but making it extraordinary and fantastic, giving readers a glimpse of what lies just beyond the edges of their realities.

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      Book preview

      Die, Blossom, Bloom - Steve Boseley

      Die, Blossom, Bloom

      Copyright 2016 Steve Boseley

      License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to the author or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Table of Contents

      Part One

      Part Two

      Part Three

      Part Four

      Part Five

      Part Six

      Part Seven

      Part Eight

      Part Nine

      Part Ten

      Part Eleven

      Part Twelve

      Part Thirteen

      Part Fourteen

      About Steve Boseley

      Also available by Steve Boseley

      Connect with Steve Boseley

      Part One

      Gripping the pillow in both hands, he placed it over his wife’s face and pressed down. Her weak body writhed against him, her arms flailing feebly, but Ted held his nerve and the pillow. She continued to struggle for several minutes, and Ted began to worry not about his resolve but about his strength. He could hear her voice, muffled by the pillow, which he tried to block out and failed. Her voice weakened and then was silent.

      Ted awoke with a start. For a moment, the world looked strange, and he blinked his eyes. He looked at his hands, both fists still gripping the pillow. After a moment, his hands relaxed, and he flexed his fingers, before resting them on his thighs. Even in sleep the memories of how things had ended for his wife still haunted him. It had been two years since she died, and he could still not reconcile his actions. He sat up and looked around. He had fallen asleep in his deck chair in the garden. He picked up the newspaper that had fallen on the grass and ran a hand across his mouth. He wiped away the bead of sweat that trickled down the side of his face. The day was warm, but he felt a chill. He looked around, as if someone could see his guilt, could see into his dreams. Chiding himself for his foolishness, he slowed his breathing and sat back into the chair, the dream still present in his mind, but fading fast. He replayed those final moments in his head and winced. It still felt like it had been his only option, and he thought he would have done it again if he had to, but that didn’t stop his heart from feeling the absolute emptiness her absence left.

      He took a moment to look around and blinked his eyes until he came fully awake. Ted sat up again. A deck chair was not the most forgiving at his age, and his spine popped as he stretched. He took a moment to take in his garden. The year had been especially prosperous for all of his plants, the climbing roses in particular. The red petals snaked up and over the front window of his cottage, tethered to the trellis he had put up ten years earlier. It had been one of the first things Sissy had asked of him when they moved in, and he had been glad to do it. The roses were the first things that had been planted, and they were thriving. This year, more so than recent years, the rest of his garden seemed to be following suit. The addition of a large compost bin two years earlier had been a stroke of genius. It had taken a year for him to start seeing the results, but his homemade compost seemed to be having the desired effect, not just on his pocket, but also on his garden. Sissy would have been proud, and he was fairly certain that the local ‘Haverly in Bloom’ title was within reach this year, a feat that had eluded his wife in the years since their move to the village. If he could claim the title this year, it may go some way to easing the terrible burden of guilt he felt at how things had ended. He had carried this with him since Sissy had died, and though he would never be ready to move on, the competition had at least proved to be a distraction.

      He knew the competition would be tough, it always was; the village was home to some keen gardeners. Unfortunately there were also those in the village that would do their utmost to ensure that Ted remained an also-ran in the judging. His recent success had not gone unnoticed and with the judging only two weeks away, he knew there were still challenges to be answered.

      Pushing himself out of the deck chair, Ted walked over to one of the climbing roses. Reaching over 3 metres, he needed a stepladder to get anywhere near the top. The topmost stems had been out of his reach for a number of years now, but he was content maintaining the ones he could reach. Opening the stepladders that stood nearby, he took the first two steps. His doctor had warned against climbing too high; in the final years of her life, Ted’s fiercely independent mother had attempted something similar. She had fallen, breaking her pelvis. Though not fatal, this had ultimately hastened her death. At his age, Ted faced the same risks, and he had had his fill of hospitals and had no wish to find himself back in one. He pulled the clippers from his belt and made several judicious cuts to the plant. Climbing down from the ladder, he stepped back to admire the fruits of his labour. The paper-thin skin on his arms had come in contact with several of the thorns, and

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