77

The flowers bloomed happily, in all shades of the fluorescent and pastel rainbow. The blood red rose that stood upward in front of the field beamed at me, with the rugged thorns clashing anything that would dare to put a finger on the stem.

I was tempted by my own curiosity, my own feelings of danger for this single rose. The rose was me guarded and kept away. I bent down to study the marvelous waving rose in the wind. So happy she once was. So loved she is now. So surrounded by happy beings and she can't seem to forget about her past that darkens her every petal, she's dying inside.

My hand reached around the stem, letting the thorns pierce my hand, harshly. I felt the burn of my hand and I sucked it in. My hands swiftly pulled at the stem, wanting to free the petals from what was holding it captive. I pulled and heaved and pushed but the flower wouldn't budge, it felt safe cornered and kept away from the flowers who loved her dearly. I pulled my hands away from the piercing stem,