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Crimson Romance
For the best in romance, from sweet to naughty!

Friday, December 14, 2012

Carole's Friday Flash Fiction: The Red, Red Rose

Happy Friday everyone! Don't be shocked, but I actually have a FFF this week. Huzzah! I'm so proud of this piece...its a little on the lengthy side, but I adore it! Be warned...there is quite a twist at the end. MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The Red, Red Rose
by: Carole Rae

The years trickled past like rain drops, but it never stopped her from coming. It never stopped her from planting the roses he so loved. Though the blistering, desert sun withered the roses to dust she still squandered her money and time to plant the red, red roses he so loved.

The years trickled past like rain drops, but still she came this year. Her hair was now streaked with gray and it was harder for her to pull herself out of the carriage that took her to this spot. Once upon a time ago she was able to ride her horse to this dusty spot. Like natural, her beloved horse passed and time has withered her bones.

Stepping out of the carriage, she looked up at the dark sky. This was an odd occurrence for it seemed rain was coming. Once she was out of the carriage, she grabbed her lacy and delicate parasol. Though it would barely protect her from becoming wet, it was a comfort for her. Though most of everyone knew of her odd travels to this spot in the desert of the West and of why she came to this spot every year on the day, she was still embarrassed of her obsession of planting the red, red roses. Taking a deep inhale, she began to walk to the spot. She always made sure that she had to walk the last few feet to the spot for it made her guilt ease its pull on her heart for a while.

The moment she reached the spot, she looked down and tears began to form. She hugged the pot of roses to her chest. The little thorns cut right through her skin and little drops of blood fell down into her bodice. Surely her white chemise was now ruined, but that concern was millions of leagues away from her mind. Without aid, she slowly knelt down. Quickly, she removed her white gloves and began scrapping at the arduous and dust-covered ground. With the pain of the digging, her tears evaporated. This was normal...pain always made the heart-ache and guilt disappear as the stars fade when the sun comes across the sky.

Once the hole was dug, she gently placed the red, red roses into the ground. She filled in the remaining of the hole with soil. She rubbed her blood and dirt covered hands onto her dress. Now that the pain of digging had ended, tears welled up in her eyes. A rain drop fell onto her face and mixed with the tear. Quickly, she lifted her parasol for the rain was surely on its way. As if stroking a newborn's head, she smoothed one of the red, red petals out and a sob escaped her lips, “, Miles. I wish...I wish I could take it back. Oh God.”

She allowed herself a few moments of tears and for the guilt to eat at her soul.

A few moments....that was all.

Taking a heavy inhale, she forced the monster to return into its cage. If she allowed the guilt to run free for too long, she would lose her sanity forever. Wiping away the tears, she finally had herself in her infamous composure and self-control. The ever present smile returned to her lips and she slowly, but surely stood. Looking out into the distance she took in the scenery. As was normal. However, a dark figure caught her eye. With widening eyes she froze.

The dark figure knowing that it had been spotted, walked towards her. She could not move. Fear penetrated her heart.

After what seemed an eon, the figure stepped out of the fog and revealed its self to her. Her eyes went wide, “ It can't be! I....I....killed you twenty years ago! is this possible?”

The man, Miles to be assumed, smirked at her, “Oh dear Cynthia. You really think you killed me? Ha.”

“But...oh dear god.” She covered her mouth and sobbed into her hands when she noticed the scar across his throat. She had done that. She had sliced his throat as if cutting into a piece of bread.

His eyes sparkled, “You did nearly have me, my dear.”

“Miles....I'm so sorry. They...they made me! You know I loved you, but it was either your life or my life and our unborn child's life.” Her control evaporated and tears began rolling down her cheek.

With slow steps, he walked towards her and with his thumb ever so slightly wiped away some of the flowing tears that trailed down her cheeks. Miles replied, “I know you are sweeting, but they lied. It was a test to see how much you loved me. Yes, these roses are lovely and sentimental, but you failed the test those many moons ago.”

“Miles...I--” Before she could stammer out another word, blood oozed from her lips. He removed his hand from her face and pulled out the knife he had stabbed into her gut. The place were his child had once been.

With a dark smile, “We are even my dearest Cynthia....but I doubt you'll survive that. Until our next life together.” Turning on his heels, he disappeared in the fog.

She fell to the ground holding her gut. Her body was so in shock all she could do was look at the red, red roses he so loved and think on how the years had trickled past like rain drops. Her world then went black........




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