"A sea of unshed tears is lurking within me."
. . .
C O R A L I N E R O U X
Poisonous words have seeped themselves into her heart. Harsh blows have left their marks on her body. Degrading lies have implanted doubts in her mind.
She wanted nothing...
A taunting shadow had been roaming the garden. The dark creature would come around every day, at the same hour, to choose which one of the many flowers he'd like to pick. But it never seemed to be satisfied.
The gardener didn't like its presence in her little haven. In fact, she felt the urge to keep it as far away as she could. Sadly, she was too scared to do so. Instead, she decided to move her most precious flowers towards the unvisited part of the garden, hoping it wouldn't find them.
The demon-like creature wasn't obvious to the change. It grew angry and possessive. It would stalk the high walls, as if protecting the field from any predators. And if a monster was protecting the garden, who would protect the young woman from the real predator?
❦
Nine months had gone by. Thirty-six weeks and two hundred and fifty days.
And the looming shadow had made its choice.
The following day, the man came barging through the large doors. He had one thought in mind, to take whatever that filthy gardener had been hiding, and leave. After burning the place down, that is.
He directly walked towards the little house – it was more ruin than a building, really – and tore the door down. His eyes fell on the quivering woman. He laughed.
His eyes flashed as he roughly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her outside. She tried to escape his hold, to fight him, to take the flower and leave, but it was all in vain.
Her cheek stinged, and she realized he had slapped her, hard. She felt like crying. She was going to die. He was going to kill her.
"Where is it?" he gritted angrily, holding her tighter.
"I – please, please don't," she started sobbing, falling to her knees in front of him. He yanked her head back, and kicked her in the ribs, unaffected by her pleadings. A monster. He truly was a monster. "WHERE IS IT?!"
She frantically shook her head
"I-in – in the back yard. It's in the back yard!" she screamed. She couldn't resist him anymore. She didn't want to. Let him take his prize and leave. It was all her fault. "Do-don't kill me, I beg you to not kill me, please –"
"Oh, I certainly will, little whore," he chuckled. The woman's eyes widened and a sob tore itself out of her throat.
He snapped her neck before she could longer protest.
❦
The dark creature got his prize. It was hard to find the perfect flower in the mists of withering ones, and yet he had succeeded.
The pretty white rose was in a vase in clean water, placed on the edge of the window near his kitchen.
And it was all his.
His to keep, his to hurt, his to heal, and his to break.
Oh, how much he was going to enjoy this.
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A young boy was wondering in the depths of his town's forest. He had been locked up in his house the whole winter; and decided he'd explore the town as soon as spring came.
But he had gone too far, too deep in the mountains. And he didn't seem to understand why his feet were leading him towards the very end.
He walked straight ahead of him, towards a wooden house; as if his fingers were itching to touch the roughness of the wood, as if his skin wanted to test the coolness of the lake's water, as if he wanted to bath in the flowers' aroma in there, as if he had no purpose but freeing whoever was held captive there.
Not that he was sure anybody was in fact prisoner of the pretty house.
A soft breeze tickled him, and he realized he was in front of the hut. He started circling it, as if looking for something, or someone.
Oddly enough, the little house didn't seem to have any doors. It didn't have any windows, either – his thought was cut off and he abruptly stopped. There was a window. A normal window... decorated with one gorgeous flower. Her white was so clear it looked like she was shining.
His hand automatically shot out to grab her. He was met by icy grey eyes instead.
His forefinger was brushing the soft silk of her petals, and he wanted nothing more than to cradle the small flower to his chest. To hide her from these cold eyes and keep her warm in his arms forever.
So he did exactly that.
With a shriek, the young boy held the flower and ran. He ran until his eyes watered and his lungs burned, until his legs gave out and his hands numbed.
He ran until all he could feel was the heavy weight of the flower in his hand.
❦
The boy kept the flower, as he promised. Her shining white never failed to brighten his day, and her sweet aroma soon enveloped his room, his clothes, his skin...
And he realized that, for the first time in his few years of living, he was truly happy.
Until one day; the flower withered despite his care. She spilled her seeds and her petals fell, along with his heart and the little hope he felt in her presence.
His flower had died, and the young boy had spent days crying in his room. Maybe then his tears would drown his guilt, so he could become a human shell again. He could forget all about the feelings she taught him.
He could forget all about her, period.
It would be for the best, unless...
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Before you come at me, the use of 'she' and 'her' instead of 'it' to indicate the flower is intentional. As well as the incoherence between some of the paragraphs. I just felt like clearing this out.
Now.
What do we think of the prologue? Let me know your thoughts.
