The Gardener's Girls

The city exhaled a final, weary sigh as Lila stepped off the brightly lit street and onto the path. The moon was a sliver of bone in the velvet sky, offering no real light, and the familiar hum of traffic faded behind her, replaced by the crunch of gravel under her worn-out flats. Just this once, she told herself, the same lie she’d used three times this week. The path cut ten minutes off her walk home, ten precious minutes she could spend sinking into her sofa instead of navigating the last, long stretch of pavement. At first, the quiet was a relief. A welcome blanket after the noise of her day. But the silence here was different. It wasn't empty; it was heavy, watchful. The skeletal branches of the trees clawed at the edges of her vision, and the air grew cold, clinging to her skin with a damp chill. A shiver traced its way down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. She quickened her pace, her heart now a frantic little bird beating against her ribs. This was stupid. So stupid. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, a ghost of a lecture about dark paths and easy targets. She fumbled in her bag for her keys, weaving them between her fingers like a clumsy weapon. He hadn't made a sound. One moment, the path was empty; the next, he was there, standing just beyond the next bend. He wasn't hiding. He was simply waiting, bathed in the faint, distant glow of the city he’d left behind. He looked ordinary, almost handsome, with a calm smile that didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were fixed on her, dark and consuming. Lila froze. Every instinct screamed at her to turn, to run back to the safety of the streetlights, but her feet were rooted to the spot. "Such a pretty blossom," he murmured, his voice soft, yet it carried through the stillness like a death knell. He took a slow, deliberate step towards her. "Lost in the dark." "I-I'm not lost," she stammered, her voice a pathetic tremor. His smile widened, a chilling, predatory curve of his lips. He was closer now, close enough for her to smell the faint, clean scent of soap and damp earth. "Don't worry," he whispered, raising a hand as if to soothe her. "I'm here to take you home." The world tilted. A sweet, cloying scent filled her nostrils, and the last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her whole was that sliver of bone in the sky, watching, indifferent.