Tears of a Rose

And as I lay dying

A single tear falls.

It rolls down my face to land on the cold, dead ground.

My final breath leaves me.

Darkness surrounds me.

I only did what I thought was truly right, but in the end I was wrong.

I see that now.

But it doesn't change what I did in the past.

It doesn't change that, in my heart, I know I have failed you.

But we all make mistakes, don't we?

Can I truly be faulted for trying my best?

I've made some decisions I'm not proud of.

But at the time, most of those decisions were necessary.

Hell, you're not perfect, far from it.

But all these choices we made had consequences.

Mine just cost me more.

Mine cost me my pride.

It cost me my life.

But worst of all,

It cost me you.

I race through the forest, my heart threatening to beat right out of my chest if I don't slow down. The weak moonlight fails to penetrate the night. Tears blur my vision and I stumble on a root. I fall face first into the dirt. The wind howls through the tree, bringing with it the smell of death and decay. The wind stops and a fog rolls in. The smell is worse now. Laughter fills every corner of the night. Fear paralyzes me.

A shadowy figure emerges from the mist. He wears a cloak with the hood over his head. He raises his hand and points a bony finger at me. He flicks his hand. I fly through the air and hit a tree. He squeezes his fist and my chest tightens. Tears cascade down my cheeks. He opens his hand and the pressure is gone. I gasp for breath. He sways to a silent song, one only he can hear. More figures emerge from the mist, their laughter mixing, growing louder until it reaches a defeating volume. Then they fall silent. No sound can be heard.

I float through the air until I am in the center of the circle. Twelve figures stand around me, each raising their hands and swaying to that silent song. I take a deep breath and choke on the stench of rotting flesh.

"I made my choices," I say loudly. The figures stop their swaying, each turning their heads to gaze at me. The temperature drops, the grass dies. Frost creeps up the trees. My breath comes out as little white clouds. If float downwards until my feet touch the ground and I collapse. I have no strength left. The figures start swaying again, getting closer and closer to me. "I made my choices," I repeat. A single tear rolls down my face to land on the cold dead ground. The figures are upon me. "I made my choices." My final words.

And from that tear grew a single, dark rose.