The Wicked One

Chapter Fourteen | Jinx

Roses. Bright and red. Those were the first things she could recall back when she was just a baby. They were there in the hospital room when she first entered the world and they decorated her house and small bedroom. She woke up every morning to the sweet smell of roses, the aroma sticking with her throughout the rest of the day and until she fell asleep.

Her mother loved to garden in her free time. She had flowers of all kinds; dandelions, daffodils, lilies, honeysuckle, jasmines. But the young girl's senses always drifted to the bright red roses. One day, her mother plucked one from the bush and placed it behind one of the girl's ears and said with a smile, "They look prettier on you."

The young girl squealed with delight and spent the rest of the day feeling its soft petals between her fingers and gazing into mirrors. She fell asleep with it still in her hair but woke the next morning to find it gone.

The girl immediately ran to her mother only to find the rose, withered and blackening, rested in the palm of her mother's hand as she stood over a trash can. The young girl began accusing her mother, shouting and screaming at her with tears running down her face demanding she tell her why she would do such a thing to her rose.

Her mother smiled sadly back at her and placed the dying rose on the table. In her slow and graceful way, she walked over to her daughter and knelt down beside her.

"All things, even things that are beautiful, have an end. I don't expect you to understand that right now, but just cherish everything you hold dear to you, my little rose. You never know when you might lose them."

Although the young girl was confused at what her mother said to her, it was enough to make her stop crying and feel slightly bad at accusing her mother, especially when she began to hug her longer than she ever remembered being hugged.

Her mother never again cut away a rose from the bushes, but when winter came around the young girl refused to go outside to play in the snow with the other children. When her mother questioned her, she refused to elaborate. She didn't want to upset her mother like she did with the dead rose. Seeing the dead flowers outside during every winter only reminded her of her mother's confusing words and sad eyes. She couldn't stand the thought any more than seeing all of her mother's beautiful flowers dead and withered.

Each spring brought new found joy whenever her mother's garden grew back to life and the young girl would once again play and laugh and forget her worries and troubles. This pattern went on for several years up until it was time for the young girl to go to school. She knew it was time even before she was told, all of her friends talked and talked about how excited they were until she felt she couldn't wait any longer herself.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I do not think you should go to school this year. Maybe next year," her mother said to her when the young girl confronted her early that morning.

Once again, she could not hold back her tears or her angry accusations and she ended up breaking a vase of roses before storming off to her room, making sure it slammed shut nice and loud. She lay curled up in her bed the rest of that morning while the feelings of anger and regret battled in her chest

The year passed very slowly for the young girl. Each morning she would watch through her bedroom window as all of her friends ran with smiles on their faces to the bus stop. And each afternoon she would watch them from the garden as they returned home. Some days they would visit her and tell her about their time in school, but it only aided in deepening the young girl's depression and darkening her mood towards them. Gradually, her friends visited her less and less.