Taste

Arabella Madrigal sat quietly in the tub, the warmth of fresh milk soaking into her skin. Her grandmother hummed softly as she poured lavender oil into the water, the scent filling the room. Arabella had asked about this strange ritual countless times, but the answers were always vague.

"Take care of your skin, Ara," her grandmother said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but there was a certain weight to her words. "It's going to bloom as beautiful as the crimson red roses..."

Arabella looked up, her dark eyes curious. "Why do you always say that, Grandmama? What's so special about crimson roses?"

Her grandmother paused, her fingers gently brushing Arabella's damp hair. "Roses are a symbol of beauty, strength... and danger," she replied, her tone wistful. "But you'll understand when the time comes."

Arabella frowned. She hated cryptic answers. "Grandmama, that's not fair. You can't keep saying things like that without explaining."

Her grandmother simply smiled, standing up and drying her hands. "The world has its secrets, my dear. And sometimes, we're not ready for the answers."

The next day, Arabella entered her classroom, the chatter of students filling the air. As she made her way to her seat, something on her desk caught her attention-a single crimson red rose, lying atop her notebook.

She stared at it, her brows knitting together. Who would leave this here? Picking up the rose, she inspected it carefully. Its petals were soft and flawless, but there was no note, no explanation.

"Hey, Arabella." Her friend Clara plopped into the seat beside her. "What's that?"

Arabella held up the rose. "I don't know. It was on my desk when I got here."

Clara's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Ooooh, secret admirer?"

"Doubt it," Arabella said, tucking the rose into her bag. "Probably someone's idea of a joke."

Before Clara could press further, the professor entered, silencing the room with his commanding presence. The lecture began with the usual discussion of myths and legends, but Arabella found herself tuning out until a particular topic caught her attention.

"Now, let's turn to one of the oldest and most fascinating myths-vampires," the professor said, pacing at the front of the room.

Arabella perked up, her pen tapping against her notebook. Vampires? That was unusual for this class.

"Vampires are said to be immortal beings who feed on human blood to survive. The origins of the myth are murky, but some believe they stem from real individuals whose lives were exaggerated into legends," the professor continued.

A student raised his hand. "Professor, vampires aren't real. They're just stories."

The professor chuckled. "Perhaps. But many myths hold a grain of truth. Who's to say what's real and what isn't?"

Arabella rolled her eyes slightly. She didn't believe in vampires either, but there was something in the professor's voice that made her uneasy.

After class, Arabella lingered behind to help the professor organize books in the lecture hall. It was a routine she'd fallen into over the semester, and she enjoyed the quiet moments after the bustle of the day.

"Thank you for your help, Arabella," the professor said as she handed him a stack of books.

"Of course, Professor," she replied with a polite smile.

By the time she left campus, the sun was setting, casting an amber glow across the city streets. Arabella wrapped her cardigan tighter around her as she began the familiar walk home. The streets were still busy, the sounds of laughter and conversations filling the air.

But as she walked further, the lively noise began to fade. Shops closed, streetlights flickered to life, and the crowds thinned. She glanced over her shoulder, realizing she was now alone. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, but she kept walking, quickening her pace.

The silence was unnerving. Every step echoed in the stillness, and the air grew colder. Arabella tried to shake off her unease, focusing on the rhythm of her footsteps. But then, she saw it.

A thick, swirling fog rolled in ahead of her, blanketing the street like a living thing. It moved unnaturally, curling and twisting as if it had a mind of its own.

Arabella froze, her heart pounding. The fog was unlike anything she'd ever seen. It wasn't just misty-it shimmered faintly, glowing in the dim light.

"What the...?" she whispered, taking a cautious step forward.

As she approached, the fog seemed to pulse, reaching out like ghostly fingers. Arabella's instincts screamed at her to turn back, but something about the fog drew her in.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer.

The fog grew thicker, enveloping her in its eerie glow. Arabella felt her head spin, the ground shifting beneath her feet. She stumbled, clutching at her chest as a strange energy coursed through her.

A faint whisper echoed around her, chilling her to the bone. "Arabella..."

Her eyes widened. "Who's there? How do you know my name?"

The whisper didn't respond, but the fog tightened around her, pulling her deeper into its embrace. The world blurred, and Arabella felt herself falling-not physically, but as if she were being dragged into another plane of existence.

Her vision darkened, and the last thing she heard was the haunting echo of the whisper. "Welcome..."

When Arabella opened her eyes, everything was different. The familiar city streets were gone, replaced by cobblestone roads and towering Gothic buildings that loomed against a twilight sky. The air was colder here, heavier, and the eerie silence pressed against her ears.

She stumbled forward, her legs shaky as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. "Where... am I?" she murmured, her voice barely audible.

The city was like something out of a dream-or a nightmare. The architecture was ornate yet menacing, with spires that seemed to pierce the heavens and shadows that danced in the corners of her vision.

Arabella clutched her arms, her breath visible in the frigid air. A sinking feeling settled in her chest. Wherever she was, it wasn't home.

A sound broke the silence-a low, melodic laugh that sent chills down her spine. Arabella turned, but she saw no one.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

The laugh echoed again, followed by footsteps in the distance. Arabella's heart raced as she backed away, her pulse pounding in her ears.

This place was wrong. Everything about it felt off, and she had no idea how she'd gotten here-or how she would escape.