Thread: The Rose [A Short Story]

I awoke in the predawn light, curiosity and unsettlement nipping at my conscious mind to drag it from that subconscious state of blissful unawareness. Yet I did not sit up in gasping wakefulness or shocking clarity. I simply laid there a moment, gathering my wayward thoughts. A small ray of light must of penetrated the darkness of my bed chamber for my head shifted abruptly, eyes landing upon a single red rose on my dresser. You'd think such an ordinary yet beautiful flower would not hold my interest for long, but it was the most curious thing for it rested in a vase designed to house a dozen of its likeness. Yet there it was - alone. Some would not be bothered by this small observation, but the lonely red queen had not been the only royal in that vase previous mornings. In fact, there had originally been a bouquet of roses in a riot of color. There had been a stunning blue, a daring dark pink, a virgin white, a buttercup yellow, a simmering orange, a pleasant lavender, a blushing pale peach, a handsome black, a brilliant peach, a curious coral, and of course, the dark red stunning queen- the most classic of roses. As I stared, I thought of when the roses started to disappear. I pondered that perhaps Arabella, my maid, removed them every time one died, but she would never intrude upon my private quarters at such ungodly hours. But what then could it be? Rubbing my chin, I thought that maybe one of my other servants could of removed the roses, but something about it didn't settle proper in the crevice of my mind that deemed and answer be found. Still nothing else fit, unless I wanted to delve into the madness that my mind could not comprehend. Could a ghost be in my home? Some sorrowful specter using the roses to make up for lovers lost? But wouldn't petals be left in it's wake? I shook such ludicrous thoughts away. Maybe it really was the maids. Pulling myself free of blankets and the warm comfort of my bed, I pulled aside the drapery to see the sun making its lazy way up into the blushing sky. I would have gone back to sleep but my mind was aflutter and would not allow itself to be quelled. This was turning into a curious and unsettling matter. Quite unsettling. Turning my eyes back to the rose, it still looked the same and yet I swore my tired eyes saw it move. I stared unblinkingly until I was convinced otherwise. These thoughts and notions were madness. Dressing myself to keep from staring further, I hastened out of my chamber to escape. Yet I didn't realize I was already ensnared. My mind continued to stray to the rose in my room, no matter how much I tried not to let it. Even when I imbibed drink and had my share of wanton company, the rose was like a bold and daring woman in a simmering red gown- not to be forgotten. After my night of freedom, dance, and female companions, my manor was before me- looming and unwelcoming. I felt a change as soon as I passed the threshold into the parlor. My servants knew nothing, acted no different, but there was something! There had to be! How could they remain in such ignorance! My mind raced as I edged towards my bedchamber. What could be so terrifying about a rose? It was a delicate flower easily crushed and ruined- not like a serpent or wolf. Yet when I entered my sleeping quarters, the rose was gone. I laughed. I laughed until I struggled to draw breath and soon fell onto my bed. It was then I felt a delicate touch on my cheek, so soft it drew a moan from my lips. Reaching out my hand, I grasped at my covers only to discover a fistful of beautiful red petals- black darkening the outermost edges! Sitting up quickly, my bed was covered in them! Layers upon layers of those soft bloody droplets! I struggled to breathe, scattering petals like bloody raindrops as I pulled free of the bed. And then, like a shriek, I turned my head to the dresser to find the rose perched in the vase. I screamed until I could no longer make sound, yet when Arabella roused me from my insanity, I was in my bed clothes and under my bedsheets. There were no petals- only the rose. My heart hammered beneath my breast as I forced myself into a believable calm and explained away my fit as a mere garish nightmare. Once alone, I drew back all the curtains to let in the light and keep the darkness at bay- the darkness that was slowly devouring my very being. And yet, there was the rose on my dresser - as if I had dreamt it all. Perhaps I truly had. I could only whisper that I was losing my mind. I feared breaching the silence with a louder tone would make it true. I thought to be rid of the rose, yet I couldn't bring myself to do it! Some time passed before I left my chamber, aware of the rose as if it were alive and staring just as I did. My thoughts drifted to thinking that perhaps the rose was possessed or cursed. Yet even then I could not bring myself to destroy it. A flower should not have had so much control over me. The flower on my dresser haunted me. It appeared in my thoughts and dreams like a seductress with painted lips and eyes that stripped you to your core- pealing apart the layers that hid away your soul like a horrendous rumor brought to light. I pleaded and begged for the dreams to end and yet mornings were wrought with yearning and disappointment when the light of the sun roused me from slumber. Time and again I ordered the rose destroyed - removed! Obliterated! But every morning it would appear on my dresser like a loyal pet. My servants began to trickle away - unable to take my growing delirium- until all but myself and the rose remained. Even Arabella could no longer withstand my pleas and moods. I felt like the rose would be the death of me. Like a shadow, it dogged my every move. I knew I would go crazy - ha! I was crazy!- if I couldn't be rid of the demonness but what else could I do? I broke my chairs, my china, picture frames- everything that was breakable was soon in shambles all across my domain. My madness expanded every time something break beneath my fingers - yet I never touched the rose. It remained on my dresser. It never wilted, never dulled, or died - even after weeks of being in the vase. My insanity grew the longer the rose lived. Eventually my dreams were filled with my revenge against the Red Queen. I would sate myself with her willing body and then strangle her with her red dress, watching as the color faded from her blushing cheeks and the light dulled in her soulless eyes. Or I'd stab her until her skin was as red as the gown she wore! Or better yet! Push her off the roof of my manor to plummet to her death atop a rose bush! The rose on my dresser - which should have been a dead wilted husk - was slowly becoming a living being in my fevered brain and crazed imagination. Perhaps the lack off companionship had finally gotten to me. Sleep soon became a forgotten dream. I had to find a way to end this! To free myself from the poisoning beauty! But how?! HOW?! I couldn't take the madness anymore and like a crazed gardener, I took hold of my trimming scissors likes shears and hacked the rose into tiny red bits of worthless petals - torn up like bloody invitations. I heaved breath into my lungs from the effort, staring at the scatted and ruined pieces. And then I laughed! Laughed! Hurling the vase against the wall, I laughed even harder until tears stung my eyes as the vase shattered into miniscule crystalline pieces. Finally! I was free! Free! But my joyful relief was soon halted as I looked back at my dresser as if summoned by some unknown instinct. The Red Queen was back on her throne, dressed in her finest. Impossible! Impossible! No! NO! But the evidence was set clearly before me like diamonds flashing in the rays of the sun and I couldn't look away. I would never escape. The finality of those words rang like church bells in my mind as I screamed, running from the chamber as if Satan himself chased me- and perhaps he did!- for the rose appeared everywhere I looked like a specter waiting for my death. I swore feminine laughter graced my hearing - so sinister I thought I felt blood drip from my ears and down my neck. The liquid touch was like that of a cruel lover. And it didn't that just fit as a puzzle piece would into my delirium! And yet I ran. I ran from the rose, the laughter, from myself and sanity! I had to end it! I had to be free! My salvation presented itself in the form of the french doors that led to my fourth floor balcony. The dismantled portraits from famous artists, the tainted Persian rugs, all the soiled luxuries I owned were forgotten in my haste-nay! need!- to be free of the demon flower that brought about my mental destruction! The bitch had stolen my life! And so I deigned to steal it back. Forever. With the venomous laughter resonating in my brain, I broke the doors open and ran to the balcony railing. The moon glistened with blood, tainting my vision. Yet the heavens could not save me. The stars mocked me, and the sweltering darkness of the night sky could not conceal me from the Devil's Red Queen. Pulling myself atop the railing, I looked over my neglected courtyard, the forest beyond, and to the moon. I prayed that God would be merciful and save my tortured soul. I soon became weightless as my feet left the railing, the moon high above me. Finally! I would be free! Yet before my inevitable demise could come to it's climax, a woman in red appeared on the balcony- a fan in her delicate grasp. It was painted a myriad of colors- a mimicry of my rainbow rose bouquet. My disbelief and abject terror arose and had to have marked my expression for those cruel lips laughed and the last thing to grace my vision was a single red rose against an ink black sky.