The Rose

A red rose with black thorns in front of an iron gate leading to a garden. It's raining.

An innocent white rose, still a bud, but almost a bloom

Its stem is too new and crisp to have yet sprouted thorns

Smooth and clean

It is still new to the wide open world, and so it looks

Up at the surrounding flora, grasping for the inspiration of what it will become

Rain softly drizzles on its youthful petals, angel’s tears

The drops stay for but a moment on the tips of its white flesh

Exposing it to the coldness and bitterness of the world

Through the harshness, it remains sinless

The rain pauses, and the dim light of the cloudy day returns

The master comes out and inspects his grove

He looks at each and every one, but none pleases him

Not even the full blooms

“None of you are fit to satisfy me. Grow a bit more,

And I shall decide if you are worthy.”

Later in the day, a servant of the master checks on the flowers

She sees a rare flower of her liking, and she picks it

From the ground, inhaling its musty fragrance

The master had kept a close eye on the girl

He loved the garden more than anything and would punish

Anyone who harmed his rare treasures

The master anticipated the servant would be back to pick

Another of his prized possessions, and he was right

The full moon gleamed with the intensity of a heartbeat

Through the still and sable night

The girl returned to the alluring flower bed, which glowed

With an enchantment in the moonlight

With pure innocence, she reached down and picked another

Exquisite flower from the soil

Again, she paused to sniff its perfume

As her back was turned, the master appeared behind her

Concealed in shadow

His eyes were menacing and feral, not those of any sane man

He came quietly and slowly, step by step, like an eerie specter

The girl’s impending doom fell upon her when she turned around

And the chilling blade slashed through her torso

Upon her impact with the ground, the flower she held fell

From her hands onto the earth, which now welcomed her warm blood

The master retrieved the stolen flower, but finding it

Battered and innocent, threw it aside

The girl’s blood had seeped into the soil and found its way

To the roots of the white rose

Its roots took in the blood, licked it up like a thirsty beast

Within moments, the flower transformed

The color bled into the petals, tainting the white to a deep crimson

Black piercing thorns protruded from the stem

Dripping with an ebony poison

And penetrated the flesh of the encircling greenery

The rain came down heavily now, and the petals seemed to be

Trickling with the very blood that was contained within

The rose fully blossomed under the brilliant flash of lightning

And the blaring roar of thunder, looking down upon the neighbors

It had once seen as allies

No longer would this be an innocent white rose, but a tainted rose of murder

The master came over to the garden and gazed at his handiwork

His vicious eyes fell upon the newly blossomed rose

He walked up to it and caressed the delicate petals

“You are the crown jewel of all the blooms, the only flower

That represents my personality, the only one with whom I

Can relate. I choose you to admire above all others.”

The master gently removed the corrupted rose and walked off

Into the endless night, leaving everything else to die

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All I Could Ever Want