I despise it as much as my grandma's nutrient soup. The way my thorns stick out and my petals have a point make me feel self-conscious. All the name calling and whispering flashes through my head as tears pile up into my eyes. I dislike being a rose.
"Rosetta! Come into the kitchen! Right now!" A familiar voice interrupts, bringing me back to the rose bed of Nature's Flower Garden. I can hear some water running and the clash of pans falling on the floor. Raymond again. He should know baths aren't torture, I sigh as I paste on a smile.
The kitchen was a mess. Steel pots clutter the floor along with water splashing all over the place. Raymond was screeching his heart out as he pushes the watering can away from him.
Mother sighs in front of all the clutter. "Mrs. Daisy called today," mother starts as she polishes Raymond's stalk. "I-"
"I know," I finish. "I just really wanted a drink, and the daisies' water was the only one left to drink." Tears slowly stream down my face and water my roots.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Rose
Short StoryThis is a short story I wrote in seventh grade for a contest that won SECOND PLACE!!! The scene takes place in a flower garden where a rose named Rosetta lives. In this story, Rosetta does not like being a rose, but soon leans that it doesn't matter...
