this is the opening scene in my newest story...


Bed Of Roses

It's just another funeral; she's just another teenager to the rest of the world. As the rain pours down on this early June afternoon, we all gather around and watching the water droplets roll of the glossy finish of the casket. So many people are crying, as I stand here I wonder how many of them blame me for this. I still blame myself for this tragedy. I still am her best friend, even as I watch them lower the casket with so many roses laying on it, my rose boldly stands out from the rest. In the pile of black and red roses I have the lone white rose, I was the purest part of her life, and I am the only one who can tell her story; I am the only one who knows her ending. I fight hard against the tears but I allow one lone tear to roll down my face, and as it falls in time with the rain, I begin to tell her story.



Short story by Downtown
Read 670 times
Written on 2008-09-19 at 02:35

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Rik The PoetBay support member heart!
Well it certainly captured my attention. Good stuff. Some really good emotive imagery here which lights the spark of the curiosity to know more.
2008-09-19