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The Black Rose (standard:science fiction, 968 words)
Author: kissofthehungryAdded: Sep 04 2005Views/Reads: 5903/2127Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Angie thought she had it perfect, the black rose was to change it all. It lay on her pillow with petals of silk and thorns with tainted promises on it's stem, she couldn't resist it.
 



Angie ran a hand thought her thick blond hair, making sure that it ran
through her fingers smoothly.  Her boyfriend, Steve, sighed at her, his 
eyes betraying all of his intentions towards her.  Laughing, she pulled 
away from him, teasing him and that was when she saw the rose on her 
pillow. 

Cocking her head, she peered closer at it, intrigued by the color, it
was black.  She didn't touch it, just looked at it, when had Steve ever 
done such a strange thing?  At that moment, he ran his hand down her 
back, sending chills running across her skin. 

"Steve," she asked, her mood changed by the velvet flower, "Why'd you
get me a black rose?  I mean the thought is sweet, but why black?" 

"What are you talking about?" he sounded as bewildered as she felt, and
she spun to face him.  He was staring at her as if she had pulled the 
strangest thing out of the air. 

"That rose," she pointed at it sitting on her bed, something now dark
and frightening about it, had Steve not got it for her?  And if he 
hadn't, who had and why? 

Steve took a look at it then at her and asked, "Who gave that to you? 
You've got someone crushing on you?" 

"I don't know," she mumbled and leaned down to pick it up. Her fingers
clasped around the stem and she cried out in pain at the sharp prick of 
thorns.  "Damn it," she groaned, sucking on her injured fingers, 
feeling like an idiot for not checking first. 

"What's wrong?" he wanted to know, but his touch bothered her, was
almost repulsive.  Right now, she didn't need him trying to be 
sensitive, she just needed some relief from the burning sensation from 
the rose thorns. 

Pulling away from him, she replied, "The bloody rose still has it's
thorns.  It flipping hurts."  The rose had gone from looking somewhat 
strange to extremely threatening.  She wished that Steve was not at her 
house, not here right now, letting her figure out what was going on. 

"I'm sorry, anything I can do," he was being so sweet but it wasn't what
she needed, in fact, it was bothering her a lot.  He was bothering her 
a lot. 

"Steve, yes, I know this is mean but right now, I need to be alone," she
was so fascinated with the pain in her hand and the mystery of the 
rose, that she didn't even feel a hint of guilt. 

The pain was obvious in his voice as he rose, "Yeah, I'll see you later,
I guess. I love you, sweetie." 

"Yeah," she responded, "I love you too."  The door closed quietly behind
him and a strange peace settled upon her.  Thank god, he finally was 
gone.  That was when the need to sleep hit her hard, she couldn't 
think, just had to get into her bed.  Her head had barely hit the 
pillow when she was already asleep. 

There was a mist in her head, swirling around, blocking her thoughts. 
What was going on?  Then a voice, dark and seductive, whispered, "Hello 
my darling.  Took you long enough to come to me."  Her heart seemed to 
stop and for a moment, she was intrigued, then rage flowed through her. 


"Who the hell are you?" she blurted and the anger surged even further
with her words.  The voice chuckled and the anger turned to fear, 
chills dancing across her spine. 

"Who the hell am I?  Hmmm, I could think of a number of better
questions, but if that is really what you want to know.  I cannot lie.  
I am your one and only, who desires to show you a life that is far more 
worth living than the imitation you do now," the voice promised, and 
Angie wondered what it meant. 

"My one and only?  My one and only is Steve, we're in love," she yelled,
thoughs he felt as if she were more convincing herself than him. 


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