Simple horrors

I am scared of such simple things in life. White rose bushes, tall shadows, and the name Harry.

My adopted daughter Rosemary was playing in the garden with her dolls. It was a hot summer day and the sweat rolled down my forehead. I was just about to call her in, when suddenly a feeling of foreboding seized me. Despite the heat, I felt like someone had poured ice down my back. I rushed into the garden. Rosemary was talking to the white rose bush. "Where do you live, Harry?" I called her, but she either did not hear me or ignored me. "How old are you?" I called again. Distantly, as if waking from a trance, she turned. "I'm sorry, Harry. I've got to go now," she said, again addressing the white rose bush. She picked herself up from the grass and ran towards the house. But I could swear I saw a tall black shadow on the grass, right next to the white rose bush.