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The Legend of the Blood Red Rose
Many moons ago to a time where barely your father’s father would remember, walked a man. Upon the light of marrow this man had to settle. You see, he traveled many nights and long mornings without rest and grew weak and weary with every step. Racing away from his problems and debt, this man found a curious thing. He traveled through the old path of the scattered trees and over the bends of the river; past the mighty mountains and their beckoning call. This man stumbled upon a red rose; yet not just any rose, no this rose had no thorns and stood bigger than a rabbit. The man had eyes of silver, and of greed, thinking no one else would own such a beautiful rose, he stole it. Many things in this man’s life had gone awry. He’d lost his savings, the trust of his people and the love of his wife. The man plucked the rose with ease and traveled back home. He’d been running for so long, and now he had one last hope of apologizing. He had this rose to make it right, this last chance of ever finding peace amongst his peoples. The rose grew, very slowly, day by day with the man. It reflected his heart, and the bigger the rose was, the more his hope grew. Several more moons and the man was almost home, dragging the rose, it was nearly as big as a tree, when the people came out to meet him, they brought pitchforks and fearful weapons. The man collapsed and fell upon his knees; crying the man said “My people, my homeland, I have forsaken you much. I mean no harm, I brought this flower, it’s grown so much and I can’t apologize for all I’ve done. I’ve spent so much time wandering the crossroads of grief regret and sorrow. This rose, this blood red rose, is just for you Josephine. I could only carry its weight while thinking of you; I’ve crossed you once and never again.” The rose grew rapidly now, and the man meant every word. The village screamed in horror as the rose changed color and began to glow, purple, blue, white and then… It was the form of a man. This is the story of me my young child, I am that rose, and to this day, the man’s sorrows I feel. Now know this my dear child, always give second chances.
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Hi there, I'm Hunter, and one day I hope to change the world with my writing and my actioins. This piece started as a promt to write about a rose being given to someone, but the rose is the narrator and this is what happened with that.