Black Roses

🥀1🥀

Memories are precious. Just like flowers.
They hold great meanings and purpose. It may be something as small as a time you said hello to a stranger or what you ate for breakfast. Or it maybe the time you got married, got
a job etcetera etcetera...
For me it could be the warmth of my mother's embrace. A time I felt secure and safe, innocent to the knowledge of the outside world.
But some memories are evil and twisted. They visit you at night in your dreams, fill the only escapism you have — they plague your mind, like some forgotten key under a mat some may say. You may not see it or remember it yet it's still there always lingering.
It's times like the present that I try to block out those horrible memories. Like the penetrating, blood curdling screams or just the looks of nothing short of pure horror. Instead I find myself focusing on the present and future, it's all I can do to save myself from myself.

It's currently 6am, the sky a mixture of orange blue and purple as the first signs of sunrise appears. Swiftly, I walk down the seemingly silent and narrow road in the small village to my grandmothers flower shop. My footsteps echoing through the empty and abandoned street, subtly disturbing the peaceful silence. At the same time I absentmindedly snap back the rubber band tightly secured round my wrist every now and again if I feel obligated to.
My headphones are placed on my head quietly playing "Do me a favour" (a song I came across on some cassette tape my grandma had, and found myself taking a likening to it) in a means to calm myself for yet another painful, repetitive day.
It's a short walk down to my grandmothers flower shop but it's the best time for it, when the streets are empty and you can appreciate the rural atmosphere of my small hometown.
It's so beautiful and you can see the orange sun rising to greet you, lining up perfectly with the cobble stone road as it winds down the bright vegetated hill. The village is filled with tiny cottages all miss matching in its colours purple, blue, white, green even yellow. Or some have traditional beige or red brick walls like my own house.
I understand thar many people externally hate this village specifically those who live out in the other rural areas of Korea, they say it's too 'European' and should be taken down. But it's been here for years and most residents are elderly people most of them foreigners/ mixed race individuals and would be devastated to see it go. For me it's the only place I have left that's safe and reminds me of what I could of had as a childhood. Yet most importantly, it's also the last thing I have to remember my own mother.

My house is situated just next door to my grandmother and my grandad. It's a small but traditional rural home and I love it as it reminds me of the only peaceful moments in my life. I like to believe I'm safe and at the happiest I could be in life at the present moment in time, yet I know there's far to go, even years later I still find myself so anxious of my past creeping up behind me. Death and guilt still consumes me in its cold, menacing embrace wherever I go. Then visits me personally as I sleep.
That's why I live out here away from unfamiliar crowds, where all you see are familiar faces, you can easily point out those who are strangers and could be a threat.
My grandmother owns a small flower shop in the village, no one really goes in there but we still make just enough money to keep it running. However, she likes to say that I practically own it, as most of the time I'm in charge of running it's actives day to day.
It's an odd fascination of mine, flowers I mean, I don't know exactly why or where this interest came from but it was the first thing that sparked a form of passion and excitement in me when I got here.
I remember that day so clearly, I'd ran away from my grandmother when she found out what had happened to me from the last time I saw her. Petrified of what she thought, I ran in one single direction not caring where exactly I would find myself yet I found myself falling into a random swamp in the forest just over the hill. It was a silly thing to do, why wasn't I looking where I was going? but I wasn't in the right mindset my mind was going haywire the second I got to the village. I understood I was safe now but was scared of others seeing me as some kind of unmerciful creature with no feelings. However, as I sat there pathetically weeping in the dark swamp, my eyes landed upon a single beautiful lotus flower among the mud and filth. It intrigued me, how can something so bright and gorgeous live surrounded by wet and ugly surroundings. Its petals were untouched so colourful and silky sharply contrasting to the black mud surrounding it.
Ever since that moment,  I've studied the meaning of almost each and every flower plus its anatomy. I could go on for hours but it would bore anyone with real interest to death.
My interests may be boring and odd as well as having an overall dull repetitive, life style yet it's a good thing.
Without it I fear I may crumble.