Report, edit, etc...Posted by Screwed on 2006-06-12 at 06:48:26
Let Flowers Die
10/06/06
Mary Rose glanced across the empty room that was entitled only to her loneliness and the faint smell of flowers she kept. Within the abundance of fresh, lively flamingos, lilies, lavenders, sunflowers and many more was a withered bunch of dry, arid, brown roses. On the surface they seemed rousingly lifeless, but the connection they seem to make with Mary's eyes was dead alive.
It was one bright day when Mary's loneliness stayed in its grave a year ago. The fiery ball in the sky is emitting its luminescent sunshine on its surroundings, and Mary seemed to photosynthesize with her flowers alongside Phoebe. They would indulge themselves in their laughter, happiness and gently embracing arms. But the moderate warmth of the sun doesn't stay alight forever.
“I have to tell you something,” Phoebe strenuously stated.
“What’s wrong Phoebs? I thought you’ve always told me everything, right?” A honey-like concern flourished out of Mary’s voice.
“That’s why this is so important,” Mary assured. “Remember how I don’t feel too well lately?”
“Yes I do, how are you feeling now?”
“Not very well, I need you to come with me to visit the doctors,” behind Phoebe’s voice covered a dark sense of insecurity and uncomfortable knowledge. “I need you.”
So when the sun settled itself behind the protruding mountains and the blanket of darkness encircles the earth, they went to see the doctors. It was an exhausting process, and the happiness and laughter died with the sun when Phoebe was confirmed with terminal skin cancer.
“I’ll be fine, just be with me hon,” Phoebe ironically assured, like an attempt to calm a shocked patient. But Mary was frozen like stone; all the blood and liveliness have seemed to drain out of her energetic soul.
Around nine months later, summer and fall had it’s time, and it was winter. The world was an eggshell of white frost that facilely froze the forgotten times with it. The surroundings were shadowed with plain white loss while Mary pushed Phoebe on her wheelchair down the ice-infected ramps of the hospital.
“I’m jaded on the meds hon, they’re making me more sick than not” a gent whisper pierced through the coldness. “I want to spend my last moments of my life with you, without being chained to anything else.” This was the recycled subject Phoebe had been feeding Mary. Although reluctant to put her off the meds, Mary was willing to fulfil Phoebe’s final aspiration.
“Let’s go home Phoebs.” Mary assured, “where we belong - our home.”
They treaded through the abundance of snow to find the warm, affectionate garden they, like two flowers, belonged. Mary shut the door with a crisp click behind her.
“Phoebs, have a rest I’m sure you’re tired.”
“Before that I really want to see your flowers.”
So Mary pushed Phoebe on her wheelchair to their room; Phoebe had lost all her hair, her lips are dry purple, her face pale, and everywhere on her skin are burn-like spots. She was just like a flower who had lost her petals and scorched by the sun, using her last breath to flourish whatever fragrant beauty she still had.
Within the abundance of fresh, lively flamingos, lilies, lavenders, sunflowers and many more was a withered bunch of dry, arid, brown roses. Phoebe connected her eyes with this piece of seemingly dull rust.
“That was the rose I gave you last Valentine in February,” she faintly said. Mary nodded agreeingly, and silently passed the rose that was drenched with dryness to her other half.
“It’s still so beautiful” Phoebe commented. There was a long pause, then Phoebe’s eyes begun to water.
“Just like you,” Mary added, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known”
They sat there quietly indulging themselves not in their laughter or arms, but in the presence of a rose that connected them both. I could not say there wasn’t happiness, because there was hope. Hope that a new spirit might bloom inside a person just like a flower. It was Phoebe’s last winter. She was a rose that returned to the cycle of nature a month before Valentines. Now, on Valentines, Mary sat there solitarily looking at this flower that was cursed but blessed with a sense of immortality in her mind. Phoebe was a rose, so was she; but she needed to keep embracing the blazingly bright sunshine. She searched for the meaning of this dried flower, then she realised that she was the one withering; not the rose. That’s why she dug up her courage to pick up the arid blossom and took it to Phoebe’s grave.
“Hey Phoebs,” Mary greeted her smoothly as she gently placed the rose on the stone tablet. “Remember this? This is my luckiest sorrows and most adored pains. I’m letting it die. I’m letting flowers wither away with nature and die. I love you Phoebs.”
Mary Rose had earned its thorns, and with that, she turned around; letting the rose disintegrate against the light, visiting breeze.
--Screwed
ADDITION:
I guess people aren't that reali into romance here...
10/06/06
Mary Rose glanced across the empty room that was entitled only to her loneliness and the faint smell of flowers she kept. Within the abundance of fresh, lively flamingos, lilies, lavenders, sunflowers and many more was a withered bunch of dry, arid, brown roses. On the surface they seemed rousingly lifeless, but the connection they seem to make with Mary's eyes was dead alive.
It was one bright day when Mary's loneliness stayed in its grave a year ago. The fiery ball in the sky is emitting its luminescent sunshine on its surroundings, and Mary seemed to photosynthesize with her flowers alongside Phoebe. They would indulge themselves in their laughter, happiness and gently embracing arms. But the moderate warmth of the sun doesn't stay alight forever.
“I have to tell you something,” Phoebe strenuously stated.
“What’s wrong Phoebs? I thought you’ve always told me everything, right?” A honey-like concern flourished out of Mary’s voice.
“That’s why this is so important,” Mary assured. “Remember how I don’t feel too well lately?”
“Yes I do, how are you feeling now?”
“Not very well, I need you to come with me to visit the doctors,” behind Phoebe’s voice covered a dark sense of insecurity and uncomfortable knowledge. “I need you.”
So when the sun settled itself behind the protruding mountains and the blanket of darkness encircles the earth, they went to see the doctors. It was an exhausting process, and the happiness and laughter died with the sun when Phoebe was confirmed with terminal skin cancer.
“I’ll be fine, just be with me hon,” Phoebe ironically assured, like an attempt to calm a shocked patient. But Mary was frozen like stone; all the blood and liveliness have seemed to drain out of her energetic soul.
Around nine months later, summer and fall had it’s time, and it was winter. The world was an eggshell of white frost that facilely froze the forgotten times with it. The surroundings were shadowed with plain white loss while Mary pushed Phoebe on her wheelchair down the ice-infected ramps of the hospital.
“I’m jaded on the meds hon, they’re making me more sick than not” a gent whisper pierced through the coldness. “I want to spend my last moments of my life with you, without being chained to anything else.” This was the recycled subject Phoebe had been feeding Mary. Although reluctant to put her off the meds, Mary was willing to fulfil Phoebe’s final aspiration.
“Let’s go home Phoebs.” Mary assured, “where we belong - our home.”
They treaded through the abundance of snow to find the warm, affectionate garden they, like two flowers, belonged. Mary shut the door with a crisp click behind her.
“Phoebs, have a rest I’m sure you’re tired.”
“Before that I really want to see your flowers.”
So Mary pushed Phoebe on her wheelchair to their room; Phoebe had lost all her hair, her lips are dry purple, her face pale, and everywhere on her skin are burn-like spots. She was just like a flower who had lost her petals and scorched by the sun, using her last breath to flourish whatever fragrant beauty she still had.
Within the abundance of fresh, lively flamingos, lilies, lavenders, sunflowers and many more was a withered bunch of dry, arid, brown roses. Phoebe connected her eyes with this piece of seemingly dull rust.
“That was the rose I gave you last Valentine in February,” she faintly said. Mary nodded agreeingly, and silently passed the rose that was drenched with dryness to her other half.
“It’s still so beautiful” Phoebe commented. There was a long pause, then Phoebe’s eyes begun to water.
“Just like you,” Mary added, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known”
They sat there quietly indulging themselves not in their laughter or arms, but in the presence of a rose that connected them both. I could not say there wasn’t happiness, because there was hope. Hope that a new spirit might bloom inside a person just like a flower. It was Phoebe’s last winter. She was a rose that returned to the cycle of nature a month before Valentines. Now, on Valentines, Mary sat there solitarily looking at this flower that was cursed but blessed with a sense of immortality in her mind. Phoebe was a rose, so was she; but she needed to keep embracing the blazingly bright sunshine. She searched for the meaning of this dried flower, then she realised that she was the one withering; not the rose. That’s why she dug up her courage to pick up the arid blossom and took it to Phoebe’s grave.
“Hey Phoebs,” Mary greeted her smoothly as she gently placed the rose on the stone tablet. “Remember this? This is my luckiest sorrows and most adored pains. I’m letting it die. I’m letting flowers wither away with nature and die. I love you Phoebs.”
Mary Rose had earned its thorns, and with that, she turned around; letting the rose disintegrate against the light, visiting breeze.
--Screwed
ADDITION:
I guess people aren't that reali into romance here...
Report, edit, etc...Posted by fm47 on 2006-06-13 at 00:28:08
Haha, personally, it's not that I'm not into romance, I just havn't read it. I figured that so far, I've liked what you've written, so out of boredom, I could always look for your work.
Although... the writing style was alright, bumpy here and about, overall, 7/10. I liked how at first it was so warm, so... calm, and suddenly the same sunshine that was once so vibrant became bleak and gray. My emotions and thoughts travelled through the text as if were what it described. I especially what the rose was and what it symbolized them.
I think you could easily polish this up given some time, but in the mean time, it's rather beautiful already.
Although... the writing style was alright, bumpy here and about, overall, 7/10. I liked how at first it was so warm, so... calm, and suddenly the same sunshine that was once so vibrant became bleak and gray. My emotions and thoughts travelled through the text as if were what it described. I especially what the rose was and what it symbolized them.
I think you could easily polish this up given some time, but in the mean time, it's rather beautiful already.
Report, edit, etc...Posted by Mini Moose 2707 on 2006-06-15 at 13:16:06
It was all beautiful, but I didn't like the ending. A lot of stuff regarding Phoebe's decay seemed implied already, and thus redundant. Otherwise, this was a good writing with some nice imagery - "the ice-infected ramps of the hospital" - yeah, that's the stuff.
Report, edit, etc...Posted by fm47 on 2006-06-15 at 21:30:50
Oh, yes, I definitly liked the "ice-infected ramp". That was very-well written.
Also this part
"They treaded through the abundance of snow to find the warm, affectionate garden they, like two flowers, belonged. Mary shut the door with a crisp click behind her."
Though a little rigidy to me, it gave me an image where the sun shines in the back as I had a view of the girls (they're both girls, right?) in profile, making their way down the walkway to their home, surround by their garden with two saddened flowers. One of the flowers was bent and tilted a bit more than the other...
Also this part
"They treaded through the abundance of snow to find the warm, affectionate garden they, like two flowers, belonged. Mary shut the door with a crisp click behind her."
Though a little rigidy to me, it gave me an image where the sun shines in the back as I had a view of the girls (they're both girls, right?) in profile, making their way down the walkway to their home, surround by their garden with two saddened flowers. One of the flowers was bent and tilted a bit more than the other...
Report, edit, etc...Posted by Staredit.Net Essence on 2006-06-22 at 16:22:04
Ho, wow! 
Report, edit, etc...Posted by Screwed on 2006-06-23 at 03:36:40
Thanks for the comments guys, I'll take them into account for my future works.
Report, edit, etc...Posted by RedNara on 2006-06-23 at 14:40:44
This is very well writtenas fm said. 
good job, love your work, write some more.
good job, love your work, write some more.Report, edit, etc...Posted by Screwed on 2006-06-24 at 02:40:33
Thanks RedNara, off course I'll write some more.
And in response to fm's previouis post (which he asked whether if they're both girls), yes they're both girls, and they love each other.
And in response to fm's previouis post (which he asked whether if they're both girls), yes they're both girls, and they love each other.
Report, edit, etc...Posted by fm47 on 2006-06-24 at 03:11:23
That is completely ok with me (even if they were both guys). It's not the sexuality that bothers me, it's their attitude and behavior as an individual, as a person.
Lol, the more I read that, the more it seems like i'm saying "THEY", but what I'm saying is I don't care about their sexuality, but who they are inside.
Lol, the more I read that, the more it seems like i'm saying "THEY", but what I'm saying is I don't care about their sexuality, but who they are inside.