A Rose Without Thorns

Red.

There’s red everywhere, and I momentarily believe that I am bleeding. I find myself on the ground, face down, with something tickling my face. I move my hands around me in an attempt to understand where I am, and as my hands grasp at the earth underneath me I come to realize that I’m surrounded by something soft. As the world comes into focus, I realize that I’m not in a pool of blood, but rather a sea of rose bushes.

Where am I?

I study my surroundings, taking in the rows or roses, that I can’t see an end to. There are few clouds and the sun high in the sky, suggesting that it is  midday.

I hear a scream, but as I turn around to investigate the disturbance I realize that it wasn’t a scream, but in fact a laugh. A small child runs through the field a distance from me, giggling and dancing as she goes, with a bundle of the delicate flowers clasped in hand, leaving a trail of downtrodden roses in her wake.

Who is she?

The child continues on, slowly nearing me, yet taking no notice of me. Every once in a while stopping somewhere to pick a new flower to add to her ever-growing collection, while occasionally dropping a flower in her path when she no longer finds it to her liking.

I watch the child’s care-free quest for some time, although for how long I could not answer. As the girl nears me, my mind begins to wander, until I’m imagining as if I was the one traipsing about the field without a care in the world.

A shrill cry pierces the air, pulling me out of my reverie. I shake my head in an attempt to rid my mind of the daydream, and realize that dark clouds had rolled in, signalling that it was going to rain soon, before frantically looking around, for I had lost sight of the child. It didn’t take long for me to locate her, for during my musing she had made her way much closer to me.

I find her only a dozen or so feet away, the roses in a heap before the sobbing figure. I draw nearer in order to understand, and I soon notice the child is clutching one in within the other, now stained red. It wasn’t roses this time, but a red liquid dripping down their hand.

Blood.

I try to move closer to the child, but, something seems to be stopping me from moving and I remain stationary. The child cries on, my inability to comfort them leaving a lingering ache in my heart.

My eyes travel around the scene in order to find the cause of her pain, and they land on the pile of roses at their feet. At the top of the pile is a single rose, that was different from the others in that the petals were bright white, drastically distinct from the dark red roses surrounding it. In addition to the striking color, the rose also possessed large, red thorns, which I found rather strange considering that none of the other roses had any thorns at all. Soon, I come to the conclusion that the girl must have pricked her hand on the strange rose as she absent-mindedly plucked it from the ground.

The rumbling of thunder draws my eyes to the sky, and as I look up large drops of water hit my face. The water that fills my eyes leaves me blinded for several seconds, but once I gain back my ability to see I look away to the spot where the young girl was, just moments ago, sobbing.

She’s not there.

I desperately look around in search for the child, but the she is nowhere to be found. The sudden rainstorm has caused the sky to darken immensely, making me unable to much aside from my own hands and the roses that are now flying everywhere around me. I call out to the child, yet my voice fails me and the only sound I hear is the wind that is speeding up with every second.

Before I know it I feel myself running, although I don’t recall when I was able to move myself again. As I run through the bushes of roses I feel a sharp pain throughout the outer part of my legs. I look down to see what’s causing my pain, and I scarcely make out bushes of white roses in front of me that weren’t there before, as well as a dark liquid running down the sides of my legs. Nevertheless, I continue running, ignoring the pain whilst being pounded with large droplets of water and roses that have been swept up by the wind.

All of a sudden I trip over something and I find myself face down on the cold, hard ground yet again. This time, I don’t have the strength to get up, and I resign to curling up in order to shield myself from the oncoming storm, and wait for it to pass.

---

Music.

The humming of music in the distance is what wakes me, despite the fact that I have no recollection of falling asleep in the first place.

Where is it coming from?

I open my eyes and find myself staring up at the night sky, dotted with the bright twinkling light of stars from centuries ago. Their beauty leaves me in somewhat of a trance and I lie there staring, and I find myself humming to the music.

I bright light catches my left eye, and I turn my head in that direction. There’s a large flickering light a distance away, and I momentarily have to squint to make out anything else, although I know right away that this is no star. As my eyes adjust, I start paying attention to my surroundings and I notice that I’m no longer in the field of roses, but rather a field grass.

My curiosity becomes overwhelming and, forgetting the stars, I slowly push myself up off the ground, and start making my way towards the light. I walk for some time, and as I draw closer the music grows louder, and I gather that this is the source of the music.

Before I know it I can make out figures in the distance, dancing in fancy clothing to the beat of the music, and the smell of freshly made food comes wafting my way. I come to the conclusion that there’s a celebration of some sort.

What are they celebrating?

I eventually reach the partygoers; they are now standing together in a large circle, clapping joyfully to the music. I start making my way through the crowd, being careful not to bump into anyone, although they don’t seem to mind. In fact, they don’t appear to acknowledge my existence at all.

As I arrive at the front of the crowd, a flash of white flies past me. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s a woman, dressed entirely in white, spinning and dancing along to the music with a partner.

A wedding.

The couple dances on, smiling from ear to ear with twinkles in their eyes, and gazing at each other as if they’re the only two people in the world; and in that moment, they were. All too soon the song comes to an end, and the crown begins shuffling around, ending the moment.

In the commotion I lost sight of the couple, nonetheless, I felt drawn to the couple. A see white out of the corner of my eye, and as I turn to follow it I see the couple silently dashed out of the crowd.

I feel my feet carrying me through the crowd, this time not caring whether I bump into the strangers or not, though they continue to not notice me. It’s almost as I’m not there at all; as if I’m just walking right through them.

I follow the couple from a distance, out of the party. They’re holding hands, sometimes taking turns dragging each other along, almost like a dance. I begin to wonder if they even know where they’re going; then again, does anyone?

They laugh as they go, reminding of the little girl frolicking through the rows and rows of roses.

What happened to her?

The couple slows, and ahead I see what I assume to be their destination. There’s a tree, one that I suppose at some point grew a fruit that is now out of season, leaving the tree bare. Behind the tree is a short fence that appears rather old, and beyond that is a large body of water, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The couple stops underneath the tree, exhausted from their journey and needing to catch their breath. They lie on the ground in each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings and occasionally stealing a kiss. They are a bit disheveled; her hair has now fallen out of the bun that once sat on the top of her head, however, she doesn’t seem to mind.

Why does no one see me?

For awhile I simply watch them as I ponder this, but soon they rise, and she walks over to the fence, looking out at the expanse of water. They watch together, choosing not to speak, and I find myself gazing at it as well. The stars reflecting off of the calm water are rather mesmerizing.

Eventually, the sun begins to peek out along the horizon, and they soon start walking back in the direction they (we?) came. They walk in silence for the most part, and I realize that I have yet to speak a word the entire night, and I don’t really want to.

We make it back to where the wedding once was, though the guest are now long gone, though the memory of the music lingers. The couple doesn’t seem to mind, and I continue watching. She wanders over to a bouquet of roses of varying colors, studying them before pulling a bright pink one from the bundle. She walks-

No.

She glides across the room towards her lover and, after removing most of the stem, gently attached it to his suit. They take each other into their arms and begin dancing once more, although this time it’s slower and leaves me in awe. I feel as if I could watch for eternity, and I watch intently as if in a blink of an eye they could be gone.

But then it happens.

They’re gone.

I blinked and then...nothing.

Where did they go?

I look around frantically, then grab my neck in pain from whiplash.

Why doesn’t anything make sense?

As the pain recedes, I notice that the entire wedding is gone, though the sun is still rising as it was before.
I look around, slower this time. I see a figure in the distance, and begin running towards them. Despite this, the figure doesn’t appear any closer. It occurs to me that the figure is moving away from me, so I run faster, trying to close the distance between us. At some point they must have stopped, for eventually I slowly get closer to them.

In a short time I reach the figure, which now appears to be a women. She’s facing towards a grave, but away from me. She kneels down, placing a single white rose on the grave. For several minutes she stays there, unmoving, not speaking a word, until finally getting up.

As she turns, I realize she’s the bride. Now she looks older, her face worn with age and sadness. Despite this, she has retained her beauty, though she now lacks the twinkle in her eye that I once loved. She, unsurprisingly, doesn’t notice me and walks past, head facing the ground. I consider calling after her, but I conclude that she probably wouldn’t notice that either, so stay silent.

I take in my surroundings, for I had not paid much attention as I followed the woman. I instantly recognize the tree from earlier, now full of bright red apples, hanging overhead. My gaze travels to the grave, wondering who it belongs to, and while it bares no name, the inscription reads:

A human who lacks doubt is a rose without thorns;

A rose that lacks thorns is without protection.

Pondering the words, I think back on my day, to the little girl in the field. Perhaps, she herself was a rose without thorns. Her bright smile, the epitome of innocence, shattered by a thorn and an untimely storm.

Eventually the storm had been broken with the celebration of love. The couple comes to mind now, with their dancing. Oh, the dancing; how they danced along like shooting stars in the night sky. Their tiny adventure, though they seemed not to know their destination, they simply enjoyed the journey. There is no doubt that they had thorns along the way, they had each other to help with the snags.

I down at the grave once more, and it struck me that it must be his. I can’t think of a reason other than death that would cause such a love to part from one another.

A sudden feeling of déjà vu washes over me; it all almost feels like a memory.

But this hasn’t happened.

It hits me in that moment. Memories of the girls and the couple flash in my mind, some of them from today, jumbled together with ones I haven’t recalled until now.

Nothing makes sense.

It’s all coming at me so fast, images I’ve never seen, voices I’ve never heard, and emotions I’ve never felt; like puzzle pieces that have all been shoved together in the wrong places. I clutch my head, covering my ears, trying to block it all out.

I can’t tell what’s reality and what’s fiction anymore.

There’s a loud SPLASH, followed by the overwhelming feeling of drowning, but at this point I can’t tell if it’s in my mind or not. I begin to wonder which would be worse, but to that I have no answer. The visions keep coming, crashing into me like waves.

---

All of a sudden the recollections cease, and I feel as if a weight has been lifted off me. I sit up, sputtering for a minute or so and then look around at my surroundings, attempting to regain my bearings. Yet again I find that I am not where I was before, however for the first time I am myself indoors.

I slowing get up from the cold, hard ground, intent on exploring this new place. I’m now in a room, the shape of it I do not know. It appears to have an infinite amount of walls of varying sizes, indistinguishable corners, gray in color,

and riddled with cracks. The only light source is the small amount of light coming through the cracks, making the room rather dim.

I walk over to a wall, and as I near I notice words carved into it, making sentences. As I walk along towards a crack in the wall, the words become more and more incoherent, until they become nothing more than scribbles.

My focus turns towards the crack. Unsurprisingly, as I close the gap the light that’s emitted grows. I soon realize that I underestimated the size, for it’s not simply a crack, but a rather large hole.

Should I?

After a moment’s thought, I lower myself so that I am kneeling, and then proceed to put my arm through the hole, barely fitting. My hand grasps something soft, and I lean into the wall, trying to reach in further. To my surprise, the hole begins to widen, and within moments it’s wide enough for me to fit through. My upper body, which was previously leaning on the wall, falls through. I turn away from the brightness that fills my line of sight, and I let my eyes take a moment to adjust. When I’m certain that it’s been long enough, I turn back towards what I was grasping at, and find myself facing a sea of pink and green.

Roses.

Author's Note

tw: blood mention.

This was an assignment for my English class, and the prompt was to write a short story based on this quote:
"Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string,"(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Reviews

[Laura Almeida]

I really enjoyed what you wrote
"It hits me in that moment. Memories of the girls and the couple flash in my mind, some of them from today, jumbled together with ones I haven’t recalled until now." very nice, strong and at the same time light and complete