They grow in my mother's garden. Their pure, silky petals reach out like the hungry arms of a lover -- yearning ... caressing ... waiting ... I want to touch them but I am afraid. They look so peaceful and enticing, but just like a woman, they hide and deceive. Please, don't get too close to my mother's wild violets -- their beauty is evil, their fragrance is death, and what lies beneath them is too horrible to see!