Dead Roses and FreshTulips

This is the very first story I have written. I wrote this a couple of years ago. Its just about a girl getting over a guy basically.

Its two am and she is wide awake. The phone is ringing off the hook. she knows its him. She almost gets up to answer the phone. Was it to tell him off? Or was it to tell him she will give him another chance? She has come to a point where she cant understnad herself. She is being pulled in two very different directions. She is at a crossroad. An unfamiliar one. Which road will lead to her happiness? Which one will lead to a dead end? She doesnt know and she hates making decisions.

Does she really need him? Or does she just want him? Can she live without him? The phone continues to ring. Its still him she thinks as his voice comes on the answering machine. She looks around her room and her eyes finally settle on the single red rose. The last rose he ever gave her. The rose he gave her a couple of days before she saw him with "the other girl" at their lake slow dancing to their song. She hears his voice come on the answering machine again. "Im sorry baby" he says as she watches the last petal fall from the rose. The rose he had given her when he confessed his so called love.

Wait, did he just say he was sorry? She thinks. Sorry?! Oh how easily those words just roll off his tongue. How many times has he said those before? And how many times did she take him back, accept his apology for whatever screw up he did or one night stand he had? How many times had she picked up the fragile poeces of her broken heart, only to have it broken into a million even smaller even more fragile pieces? How many times?!

Enough is enough. Its 5am and the phone has stopped ringing. She knows he will begin calling again later on during the day. She looks at her answering machine. 40 new messeges. All from him. She looks over at the fallen rose petal now laying in the dust on the top of her bookcase.

The rose is dead. And so is their so called love. So is their so called relationship. He is dead to her.
No more tears, no more restless nights. No more wishing and no more hoping for him.
He is dead to her. Period.

She gets up from her bed and walks over to her machine. Erases all 40 of the messeges and unhooks her phone. She will block his number tomorrow. SHe then walks over to the now dead rose and throws the stem and all the petals out the window. They will eventually decompose and will become dirt.

She walks back to her book case and wipes off the dust. She places an orange tulip into the vase.

Its time for a new beginning.

She walks back to her bed and finally drifts off to sleep as she thinks of the guy she saw earlier that day...
No. Shes gonna be on her own for awhile now. She knows shes beautiful. She knows shes intelligent. She doesnt need a man to tell her that much less a boy. Shes bold. shes creative. shes confident. She knows she has taken the right road. The road to her happiness.

Finally, she drifts off into a peaceful slumber. Tomorrow her new life begins.

Reviews

[Snapdragon]

I like the idea of the roses being replaced by the orange tulip. It's a good story about being strong and moving on. It just another read through to clean it up. Don't be discouraged. I think you have some real talent and I'd love to read more.

[tony]

Grammar is the first thing I want to point out. You want the reader to take you seriously, and untamed grammar really throws him/her off of your main topic. Get it cleaned up.

As far as the story was concerned, I feel it had a pretty solid storyline, and probably something every girl can relate to. Nice work.