The Black Rose’ Passion

As the sky shone brightly, its spotlight focused on the prince that was strolling in his garden, appreciating the beauty of the roses he cared for so much. There were many; of different varieties and different characteristics and meanings. The white rose of purity and humility, the pink rose of appreciation and gratitude, the yellow rose of friendship and joy, the purple rose of elegance and grace and the prince’s favorite – the red rose of passion and love. He cares for every type of rose he has, but his smile was especially for the red rose he loves so much. What was beyond his knowledge was, behind  the roses that gather in front of him each morning, there was one type of rose that was being left out, yet loved the prince so much. This rose, exceeded the meaning of its color, but it was afraid of rejection, that was why it just stared from the distance. The black rose of hatred and farewell.

It was a snowy cold night when the black rose was left all alone in the road. It had been left by some people who came from a funeral; it had been thrown away to forget the pain it symbolizes. The poor black rose had been living its life not wanted by anybody, living in the shadows, needed only when pain arises. It has long been its wish to become tainted with the red color of passion, so that it will also be appreciated by anybody who receives it. Throughout its journey, which was called “existence”, it has only received nothing but tears of sorrow and rage of hatred. It has been cursed by the black color, the one that always failed to make anyone smile.

The black rose stopped wishing that it will ever become passionate. After all, the color black was a symbol of “void” as well. It said to itself, it might as well turn everything into a void – emotionless, cold, and lost, without hope. That was the law of nature, only the beautiful roses were loved. Like a snake, who severely wishes to soar the sky, like an eagle, but is forever doomed to crawl, for a snake can never grow wings, just as a rose’s color could not be washed away. The black rose stared at the night sky, everything was black, even the clouds. It signified danger for the people, for evil lurks in the corners whenever it is dark. The lone rose said to itself, “what a curse the black color carries…”

The prince who just came from an important event saw the black rose lying in the street. He picked it up and decided to take it home, to join the other roses he had in his garden. The black rose was in shock. It thought that maybe, the prince was mourning for someone, that was why he needed a black rose.

Upon arrival at the garden, the black rose was surprised that the prince put him beside the other roses. He uttered the words, “There you go. Meet the other members of the family, your sisters. Socialize with them”.

The other roses stared at the sole black rose with disgust and indifference. All of them were beautiful colors, especially the red one, which was obviously the one the prince paid so much attention to. The black rose felt so small and isolated. But it felt warmth, it had been held by a smiling person, not a mourning person; A happy person, not a sorrowful one. That was the first time it had been appreciated. The black rose yearned for another hold of the prince, another smile, another caress. As the days passed, it did not care about the other roses anymore. It only waited for the morning to come, waited when the prince did his morning stroll to see his roses. He always smiled at the roses he cared for so much, which gave life to the garden each morning. The roses gather in front of him, while the black rose was left all alone, watching from the distance. For the days it had spent with the prince, the black rose grew a new type of feeling, one that was only supposed to arise from a rose of premier red color – that feeling was, passion. It said to itself, it did not matter anymore what color it carries, for the prince was enough to her. It did not yearn for everyone to accept it anymore, for the prince already has. The prince was worth all the people in the world for it. Everything went like that, until…

A terrible accident fell the next morning. The prince died of an illness. He had that illness since he was born, and only had twenty years to live since then. Heavy rains fell from the sky, crying as every living thing was mourning. The roses in the garden were all devastated with the heavy flowing waters, but one rose stood still – the black rose of sorrow.

For the funeral, the black rose was picked out from the garden. It had been held by the prince’s loved ones. The black rose stared at the prince it loved so much, who turned its sorrow to passion and love. The coffin was laid on the ground, ready to be buried. The black rose was thrown into the prince’s body. Everything was different, the prince’s body was no longer warm and soft; it was cold and hard, without life.

“This is how it should be. This is the only way I could stay with the prince. I am the black rose of farewell and sorrow, but I had beaten the other roses, for they could not be here in my stead. They were all roses of joy, and I am the only one who could be here with his dead body, for I am sorrow itself. My dear prince, now, I have realized, I was lucky to be born black. For a black rose also symbolized eternity, to be with your body forever, until I wither and you, decayed, we will be together. This is the passion of the black rose…”

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