#( une histoire dans chaque pétale

[everardentarchived]

Once upon a time, as all stories seem to begin, there were wild roses growing along the edges of a forest teeming with mystery and magic. These were no ordinary roses, of course, in every hue of the natural world and twisting upon each other in a nearly blinding rainbow of vivid life. Few who stumbled close enough for a glimpse got away, and fewer still escaped the forest once forced in.

Those closest to the outside, however, those closest to danger, were the red roses, protecting the others by possessing the strongest stems and sharpest thorns. Usually strangers were warded away easily enough. Usually nothing could tear the flowers apart.

                              Usually did not apply to H E R.

The unknown woman held magic stronger than even the guardian flora, and with ease in aged fingers, she plucked away one of their own. The flowers cried out for their stolen sister, vines reaching out to try and pull her back and voices raising to screams when all attempts failed. She tried to free herself, preferring to die from exposure to the world and the raging storm than be possessed by this foreigner, but all her efforts were ignored, all attempts nullified.

The insults continued when the woman not only offered the captive as payment, as a way to stay in another’s home, but then the rose was declined. Thrown to the floor like nothing; could no one sense her soul? Could no one hear her voice demanding to be left alone?

When the woman picked her up again, the magic that had been so clearly overpowering before radiated out, filling the air with light and the rose felt herself being tied to this place. To this castle, nothing like the freedom of her forest. She begged and pleaded for her own life, to not be cursed with this existence, but her voice still went unheard, and when the magic had bound and settled all, she found herself falling into blackness before she could touch the floor again.

When she awoke, it was to see herself under a glass display bell.

Where all others had turned to objects and a beast, the rose had turned into a HUMAN.

[everardentarchived]

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