Sunday, 5 May 2013

The Dead Rose

Night

She was slipping in and out of view in the gentle mist. The thorny, barren trees did little to help, casting long shadows on the frozen ground. A distant howl came as a subtle reminder that the snow-white light of the moon was the only thing that was still keeping me sane.
I was sure it was her. A porcelain doll with lips as red as blood. Her long, black hair reflected the gothic beauty of the night.
I never went too close to her, keeping at a safe distance... basking in her beauty. Maybe I was scared.
The musical sound of her soft feet touching the ground stopped suddenly, and she swung round in one swift movement. Had those deep black eyes seen me? Did she know that I was here? That someone was following her unearthly aura as she glided through the darkness? 
How could she not?
My heart was thumping against my chest as I stood absolutely still, partly hidden behind the silver trunk of the conifer. I risked a glance above my shoulder to see if she was still there... and she wasn't.


The Red Rose

There it was. Another one of them. It had been placed carefully in the center of the small clearing. And I was sure this was not the last one.
I could not take it any longer. I had to get to the bottom of this. I had to follow this trail... a trail of roses. Red roses with no thorns on their stalks, and a scent that reminded of uncorrupted love.
What was that? I swung around, my hands trembling. I was sure I had heard a footstep.
Which emotion was truely incorruptable? Hunger? Love?
Madness?
I turned around, and ran into the darkness.


Heaven

I stood there, a little bent, looking into the darkness. I knew she would come here. I just knew she would.
An owl on a tree nearby had it's gaze fixed on me. Did it not have to feed? Why was it ignoring that primal instinct?
...And then I heard her. I saw her come out of the darkness into the small clearing, a bunch of red roses in her right hand.
I could see the surprise on her pale face as she picked up the withered rose from the ground. She looked around, lost, as if searching for an answer in the moonlit darkness.
A swift move of the knife across her throat, and there she was, in my arms. Her eyes looked into mine, asking me a question that could never be conveyed in words.
After her last breath had subsided, I closed her eyes, and kissed her icy cheek gently. I lay her down on the ground, and folded her hands across her abdomen. I then picked up the roses that she had dropped, and placed them on her hands, carefully throwing the last one away.
She had asked me a question without words, and she deserved an answer without them. I lay down beside her, enjoying her aroma for the last time.
Another swift move of the knife, and I could feel myself drift away. In a few moments, she will get the answer she had asked for.



Epilogue

One night, as the mist rose,
The trees stood bare, and the ground froze;
The stars shone, and the moon glowed,
Love died, and the dead rose.

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