One White Rose


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Chapter 1

 Tree. That tree just make it to that one tree. 



Soft. Bed.

Warm. Blanket.

Cold. Gun.


Light, white bright light. Eyes. Deep green eyes. Face. 

Male face!





Chapter 2

Father was violent. I'd learned that for a while... disobey him and very well get whipped and lashed at. So you just do as he says really. So, as I decided this would be the last time I washed the dishes, hanged the clothes, made lunch, and fold the clothes, I knew I was signing a death wish. But, I just couldn't take it anymore. I was going to disobey father, I was going to run away.


As I make it almost to the little cottage up the hill, I slip.​ 

Damn, this terrible weather!

As if an answer, the thunder pounds louder and the rain pours harder. The footsteps behind me get closer. I can hear the gunshots behind me.

​Only to scare me, only to scare me...

I see a girl. She's looking out the cottage window. She loks absoultley terrified. 

​Crack. ​The window shatters. The girl. Gone.




Chapter 3

  I dreamed of a time when I had a warm bed. A family to take care of me, a brother to play with. And then something happened, and now I'm here.

​Did they sell me? Did we run out of money? Why don't I remember?...


The dusty cold attic was not my favorite. No, I don't even like this house. Better yet, the person whom I have no memory of, my father.

 The old floor creaks beneath my cold feet that never seem to be warm. The ancient furniture all covered in layers of dust makes it clear it hasn't not been touched for a while. My tiny 17 year old feet softly walk across the wooden floor to open the shut window. My loose hair tickles my heels and swings at my ankles. I look out the window. Way too high for me to jump or possibly climb down. So, I pick up the broom and start sweeping. 

Humming a sad lullaby I have no recollection of makes the work go by faster. My hands already trained for what to do next. 

Just as the blood red sun comes back up again, I hear the wooden door creak behind my back. I freeze, hoping it's not father. But when I turn around I can't put a finger on the whoosh of emotions I feel when see his deep green eyes.


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