I like writing fictional stories for fun. I wrote this as a sample.
My father died when I was a child. The news was told by a man dressed in white. I could still remember the face of my mother when she heard the news. Her face was expressionless but I could feel that she hurt. I cried when I heard the news but mother didn’t shed a single tear.
One day I noticed my mother did not prepare our usual breakfast. She usually prepared our breakfast every day; it was the only time she didn’t. I knocked at the door of her bedroom but there was no reply. I wasn’t sure but there was something wrong with my mother. I immediately got the duplicate key of my parents’ room and unlocked the door with trembling hands. There in front of me was my mother. Lifeless. Her blood dripping on the floor. I felt my body stiffen. I was young then and I didn’t know what to do. I slowly walked towards my mother. I noticed beside her, a blood-soaked rose with a note. Tears streamed down my cheeks while reading the note.
Plant roses in my grave. Mom
Like my mother, I am fond of roses. My mother named me after her favorite flower. When I die I would also love to have roses in my grave.
Later after that tragic day, I was adopted by a distant relative who treated me harshly. He forced me to work long hours and did not allow me to rest. I was grateful for the roses that I planted in his garden. They are my solace. They comfort me. I treat them like my mother.
The day came when I could no longer tolerate my uncle so I ran away and met Michael. He was like an angel to me. But the time came. The time when the line between real and unreal was lost.
Michael cooked my favorite food. As I was cutting the meat, Michael asked, “Rose would you like to go to the doctor after we eat?”
“I refuse to go to the doctor,” I said without even looking at him.
“But why?” He asked. These past few days, you’ve been unwell.”
“I don’t like to see a man dressed in white,” I said while eating a good chunk.
“I insist. This is for your benefit.”
I looked at him. I first saw Michael but his face changed. He looked like my uncle. He walked towards me. I gripped the knife tight. He was about to touch me but he stopped. Then I heard a loud thud.
The next morning
While looking outside the window, I noticed the garden is full of weeds. A faint smile curved in my lips. Staggering, I arose from bed and stepped outside the house.
A gentle breeze welcomed me right after I stepped out into the garden. I looked around. My eyes searching for something but it seems that my vision has grown dim. I was about to return to the house but something caught my eyes. I walked towards it. The edge of my long skirt was caught in the tall blades of grass. I lifted my skirt for it not to hinder me. I ran; my hair being tossed to and fro by the wind. Breathlessly, I reached the thing that caught my eyes. It was a rose! I plucked it but the thorns pricked me. Blood oozed from my fingers but I continued plucking the rose. More drops of blood poured into the ground. Slowly, the ground turned to crimson red.
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