Mind the Roses, Unicorn

By Jonathan Evan Hudson

To spend his golden years tending his rose garden in peace and quiet. What else could an old man want? Until a diabolical unicorn ruins his only joy.

Against this horned menace, no remedy goes too far. Whether it costs a coin or two ...

Or his life.

Enjoy this inventive epic fantasy short story and enjoy the adventure of a lifetime!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Swordpulp Studios
• Release date: Apr 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386035022

Jonathan Evan Hudson

Widely traveled, Jonathan Evan Hudson spends as much time studying life as he does writing gripping tales of fantastic adventures. From the giant redwoods of California to the deserts of Israel, his thrilling stories all draw on first-hand experiences and expand them with the fantastic and his acclaimed creativity.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The carmine rose was perfect deep cherry red with a feathered viny tendrils around its stem and thorns to prick the nosiest squirrel and other pests stinking of beast and worse away.

Its tender petals curved together just right, like the curls of Darrel’s own gray hair, like the curls of the perfect cup of green tea, like, like, like the lips of his dear beloved departed Martha. Its delightful aroma permeated the air like the perfumes no longer worthy to near his little cozy round cottage. Its pointy leaves shined green as the perfect key lime pie, no, tastier than the sweetest key lime pie, tastier than any key lime pie Darrel only made his beloved wedding anniversary. He even wore the same baggy pink robe since.

Only a few more days ago then.

The plaster walls of his cottage were as pale as Martha during her last drawn tight breaths. Darrel wouldn’t dare sully the little round table with anything except her favorite little artsy fartsy vases of sweet little ponies that Martha got for the child that was never meant to be. The damned bump on its head, like the bump Martha lost to a stray topple down the stairs to the dinky dusty attic full of useless chest Darrel never bother to glance at since. Those dinky little creaky monstrous planks were now, just like back then, as whiny and warped as the rotten crickets that tried to munch and crunch his beloved carmine roses dry of their precious lifeblood.

Thinking thinking of that vermin, the bile from his morning wheat oatmeal, no flavoring, because sweetness in the morning is reserved for the eyes, from the carmine roses, ever since …

Sigh.

Darrel always kept the cottage a nice cozy room temperature using the spectacularly clean red brick fireplace because even Martha said cleanliness is next to poniness, and the wide glass door that rolled easy open to a small patch of crisp grass, a nice cozy stroll along flat solid rocks because an old man could use some solid ground beneath his fluffy slippers rather than the usually soggy soil to filthy up the pink sweet fluff.

The thicket of roses in back, a fence to keep the prying eyes of annoying