The Rose Petal Thief

By Sylvan Scott

The next fantasy adventure story in the chronicles of Anthony Delleroe and the magical world of NeverEarth, "The Rose Petal Thief" again finds the memory-awakened man at college. But this time, what comes through his closet door isn't an old friend or even someone he knows. Rather, it is a small, cloaked figure apparently intent on nothing more than petty thievery.

All people, all children, have adventures in fantastic, magical worlds of talking animals, living legends, and myth. But all children, eventually, grow up and forget.

Anthony remembered. Anthony remembered and returned. But now saddled with someone who's never experienced another world, apparently not even as a child, he must face a different sort of challenge as he quests to retrieve the mundane item that was stolen.

He must return to NeverEarth.

Cover art by Louis Frank.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sylvan Scott
• Release date: Feb 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466097469

Sylvan Scott

I wrote about robots. When I was a kid, my first story was about robots that looked like people: the only survivors of a world-wide nuclear war. What can I say? I grew up in the 70's. Since then I've sculpted all manner of stories about all sorts of topics. Science Fiction and Fantasy still remain favorites of mine and, usually, what I can express in speculative fiction I'd rather not express in other formats. I love short stories and am working on making this writing bug that I've harbored for so many years finally work for me. Here goes nothing.

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The Rose Petal Thief

©2012 by Sylvan Scott

Smashwords Edition

The smell of flowers drifted through Anthony’s muddled consciousness as strong hands nudged and shook him awake. He blinked, confused, but forced a smile.

Hey, what’s up? He slurred.

Wide, green eyes greeted him.

There’s … someone out there.

What?

In the living room; I heard a noise.

Anthony glanced at the clock. He’d been asleep for an hour at most; it was barely midnight. He caressed the concerned face in front of him and tried not to get annoyed. He didn’t say the first thing on his mind:  that tonight had been a mistake. Bringing someone home, even someone he’d dated a few times, was … complicated. He hoped his date wasn’t one of those needy sorts, always jumping at shadows.

Shh, Karl; I’m sure it’s just Max ... my roommate.

Karl glanced through the open door that led to the dorm’s main living area. Your roommate came back a half hour ago, he whispered. He’s passed out on the couch.

A creak of floorboards echoed from the main room. Anthony sat up. Pale, white light reflected off the snow, outside and illuminated his Anderson Hall home. Through the door he could see Max’s prone form crashed out on the couch with a spilled beer can by his hand. His roommate, still dressed in a winter coat, snored softly.

Karl propped himself up on one elbow and looked up at Anthony with an expression that said, See?

Anthony put a single finger to his lips and, slowly, got out of bed.

The faint flower smell wafted through the air. His steps faltered; there was something strange and evocative about that aroma.

Briefly, a long-forgotten memory flashed through his mind:  a vast thicket of rose bushes winding their way around tall pines. Another creak echoed through the quiet dorm.

He peeked into the main study area he and Max used as a living room. The door to his roommate’s bedroom stood open but everything else was untouched. He heard something new:  the sound of rustling. It seemed to come from inside the closet by the hallway door. A chill ran down his spine. Two months before, he’d had a visitor; a visitor who had come through that impossible, closet door. While he remembered their conversation, here in the dorm, memories of the adventure that had followed were only just returning. The smell of roses grew stronger as he crept towards the closet. Behind him, Karl followed.

Gingerly, he reached out to grip the doorknob. He motioned Karl