What Is A Rose?

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

The air was cloying. Humid, hot, sickly sweet. James pressed a handful of his shirt over his mouth and nose to try and stave off dizziness.

‘It’s like a perfumery got dumped in a greenhouse. What kind of spirit realm is this?’

Tangled thorns stretched into the distance everywhere he looked. Except for the sand path which cut the arcane jungle into unnaturally tidy halves.

The silence was the worst part. Not a rustle. No breeze, no living movement, nothing disturbed the oppressive lull. Being expected only took the edge off its creepiness.

‘I’m never gonna get used to this job.’

Granted, “job” implied he’d get paid at some point…

Movement. James’s head snapped around. A red cloak was floating up the path towards him.

“Welcome…”

James planted his feet - with a quick glance over his shoulder just in case. But no sign of a second spirit readying an ambush.

‘Which doesn’t mean there isn’t one, just that they’re competent.’

So he kept his ears strained as he coughed and began the Spiel.

“Hi there. I’m from the council. Do you have ownership of this shrubbery?”

“Shrub…?” The cloak distorted, the hollow where a head would be squishing and stretching. No telling what it was trying to communicate. It might just be squinting at him.

“Yes, shrubbery.” James turned his clipboard and pointed to the circle scrawled on the low-res map of the public park. “Your realm is currently anchored in a bramble patch. Which, if you don’t have appropriate paperwork, is the property of the local council. Ergo, you’re squatting.”

Silence. The cloak slowly shrank inwards to form a smaller, hunched figure.

“…I’m gonna take that as an admission.” James heaved a sigh and flipped through to form 3b. “Are you at least registered?”

“Regis…?”

‘Chrisakes.’

James forced a smile and a sympathetic tone. “You’re new at this, huh? When did you manifest, kid?”

“I…” The cloak billowed then sagged. “So long.”

Which could mean anything from two hours to two centuries. James swallowed another sigh, though he didn’t manage to keep his shoulders from slumping. Clearly this spirit was barely cognisant. He might have to get an accessibility medium in here.

“Do you have a name I can put down?”

The cloak was now a knee-high huddle, its hood collapsed. James was fairly sure that despondent quaver had been a negative.

“Right. Well…” James eyed the tree-sized fragrant blooms surrounding them. “How about Rose? You can change it later.”

Timid up-and-down wobble. Good enough.

“Alright, Rose. Just, uh, let me get some assistance and I’m sure we can get this sorted out for you no problem.”

‘Worst community service ever.’

Prompt was the picture.