|The Black Rose (standard:science fiction, 968 words)|
|Author: kissofthehungry||Added: Sep 04 2005||Views/Reads: 6305/2302||Story 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. Click here to read the rest of this story (31 more lines)
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