Mysteries of Harris Burdick

The soft plop of an apple hitting the ground sounded as Connel Gore rounded the corner with his wolfhound trotting in front of him. The small plump apple rolled into the creek, the splash echoing against the rocks.
Connel followed the edge of the water. The large wolfhound let out an unusual, deep growl. "What is the matter, Gyles?" he followed the gaze of the wolfhound to the other side of the flowing water. Connel shaded his eyes with his arm as the setting sun reflected off a silver object. It seemed to be no larger than three feet. Connel plotted out a path to jump across the large rocks peering out of the water.
After hopping across the boulders, he landed next to the silver object. Before Connel could even take a glance at the mystery, gleaming next to him, he slipped backwards on the damp rock. Connel landed on his back with a hollow thud, sucking in a breath as his skull made an ugly, cracking sound as it smashed against the impenetrable stone.
Something warm and sticky slid across Connel's forehead. He struggled to open his eyes, to find Gyles licking his face. Pushing the dog away, a searing pain shot through his head. He brushed the large lump from the fall with his finger tips, Connel winced from the pain. He slowly sat up and turned toward the object, now glowing with the light of the moon.
A harp?
He wondered, lightly wrapped his fingers around the small column. He let go, astonished by the orange, glowing finger prints left behind. They faded as he stared at his hands, and then drug his fingers across the top of the harp leaving three orange streaks. He grasped the harp with both hands and steadily stood up with it. "Maybe Nairne knows what it is?" Nairne was one of Connel's closest friends, not to mention she was his love interest at the time.
Connel hopped back across the river, now with only the light of the moon to guide his way home. He walked into his small home village, not a sound came from any building. Only one house still had the lights on, and that was his. Connel fumbled to open the door with the harp cradled in his other arm. The door slowly opened to reveal Nairne on the other side. Her short black hair messy and her face stained with tears.  
"What happened?" said Connel as he slid into the open doorway and gently set the harp onto the table, nonchalantly standing in front of it, blocking Nairne's view. Nairne replied with a note of sadness in her voice, "I…I was cut out of the band". "What? Why would they do that?" He was surprised; she was the best musician he had ever heard. "They said I was falling behind on attending the practice sessions," Nairne explained, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "Well that's not your fault. You have school," Connel took her in a warm embrace. "I brought you something," He turned showing her the silver harp. Nairne gasped, "It's beautiful," she stroked the top of the column to its base, leaving the orange glowing streak. Nairne snapped her hand away, "Connel, what is this thing?" "I really don't know," Connel then proceeded to tell her of his time in the forest.
Nairne struck the lowest note on the harp, sparking the harp in a deep golden glow. She then started to play Greensleeves, the harp glowing brighter or softer with every note. The music was enchanting, almost hypnotic. When she ended the song the golden color faded back to silver. Connel had an astonished look glued to his face, "That was beautiful." Nairne's cheeks flushed, "Thank you, but I think there's something wrong with it," she placed her hands in her lap. "Well it is quite an unusual harp," he placed his hand on the harp, he pulled his hand away quickly, the harp had begun to burn him. Suddenly from the base of the harp, thorny vines grew and wrapped around it. A golden rose steadily bloomed from the top on the body, the nectar inside and eerie blood red.  
Nairne dropped the harp, but it landed on its base without any damage. Vines continued to grow from its base, wrapping around Nairne's feet and up her legs. She started screaming as the thorns started to dig through her clothes and into her skin. The vines continued to grow up around her. Connel struggled to tear the vines off of her, but had ended up getting tangled in the vines himself. Once the vines covered them both up and strangled them, the vines wilted and disappeared with no trace of either of them. Two roses bloomed together out of the neck of the harp. A silver one, shining bright, and the other one a dull bronze. The same red nectar, pouring from both of them.