White Rose

A little dark – but the stirrings of a bigger story. Enjoy!

She watched the them float down, dipping and dancing in their decent. She traced the path of the milky white petals with her eyes. They were easy to see against the roaring ocean below. The deep blue water thrust against the cliffs, spraying her with mist, and coating her lips with salt.

That was it. The last one. He always called her his flower. His white rose.

Never in public.

Always hidden.

But she was supposed to be his.

“Amanda!” He called from the house.

Not their home.

His house.

Where he brought her so his wife would never find out about them.

She turned to look at him, her toes sinking into the sodden grass.

She would be washed away just like the petals.

He was running, waving his arms, and yelling. His voice buffeted by the winds.

His eyes were the same colour as the waves below.

She waited until he was close enough to watch but not close enough to save her.

She stepped off the edge.

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Photo by Rick Obst via Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons

4 thoughts on “White Rose

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