a wisp of something cold penetrated my lungs, it was a sweet-smelling scent --- something you wouldn't forget immediately. I turned around to follow the nostalgic and fragrant smell and I realized that I was actually in an unknown place where big and bloody-red roses bloom..
I smiled and I tried to reach for one of the red-as-blood roses.. but, the flowers shied away from my hands, as if my very touch would poison them.. I frowned slightly. And, inside my head I was saying to the flowers that I would never, never hurt them.
The humongous and the bloodiest rose in the garden growled as if he was reading my mind, he said that the very red in them is actually the blood of my enemies pricked to death.
I hesitated then I narrowed my eyes, "Enemies? What Enemies?"
A tiny rose with a deep shade of magenta raised its twig as if humoring me, "Did you feel the chilly air? It's the wind telling you how cold and cruel you are to everybody. It's your conscience bothering you, telling you how brutal you are, how your merciless and savage ways hurt the people you love. It's your soul pestering you about the inhuman things you've committed. Isn't that 'enemy' enough?"
I tried to reason out with them. I tried to tell them that I have never, in my whole existence, harmed a fly. I have never, I told them desperately, killed anyone or anything.
it would've been easier to wrestle an elephant because my protests were drowned with icy looks and a don't-fuck-with-me glares.
I tried to reach for the flowers again but the humongous and bloodiest rose shot me an obscene look and yelled, "Don't touch anyone of us, you filthy mongrel! You've already spread enough dirt, thank you."
i opened my mouth to retort but i realized that i can't really say anything because i do not know, for some strange reason, who i am.. So, i closed my hanging mouth stupidly.
"Shut you up, eh?" asked a worn-out looking rose with a heavy British accent.
I nodded, "I don't know who i am -- who i was. But," i hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying "But, I know that I didn't hurt anyone. I couldn't. I wouldn't.."
I know that there's a desperate tone in my voice and I strained myself from smacking my forehead because of the pathetic way i sounded.
The flowers laughed. A rich and jolly laughter. They laughed and laughed and laughed until their leaves hurt and crystallized blood poured out from their petals. Even with the sight of blood, they laughed and laughed and laughed some more. Their twigs began to snap, their stems began to crack, they began to go white as the blood, some crystallized and some liquid, started to drip from their petals. They started to feel ill --- they started to feel as if someone's pulling them from the Earth's muddy and nurturing soil. But even if they're becoming limp, they continued to laugh as hard as they can..
They laughed until there was silence.
I looked around the darkness and I felt scared because of the stillness around. I gave a shaky whisper, "Hello?"
silence. There was no reply. It was no problem, I didn't expect to get any.
But as I made my way out of this unknown and hell-begotten place, I smelled another sweet-smelling scent and I heard a soft but joyless giggle.
***************
Odd eh? The one you've read or glimpsed at is not a dream. I actually wrote that when I'm supposed to be studying for Religion. :P Anyway, I like it. I like odd stuff..
I know that some people think I'm weird and.. I don't really deny it. I sleep with my bed in the middle of the room because rat's might jump on me from the cabinets or from the ceiling --- until my brother pointed out that rats don't jump or fly. (But honestly, I think this borders more on paranoia than weirdness.) When I was younger, I would put a lot of baby powder on my face and on every inch of my body, thinking that my brown skin would turn white --- until my father explained genetics to me at a very early age (I don't really think he knows that I couldn't understand a single word he's saying back then..)
In my own perspective, everyone has an oddity within the depths of their beings that they're just afraid to show. Well, quite frankly, when you think about it -- it's their oddity that makes them unique. It's our own weirdness that sets us apart from other people.
I'm not telling anyone to believe me or agree with me. This is just a matter of opinion and this happens to be my blog.. Which means I'm always going to be right! Hahahahaha! Weh.
So, shake that roundly bottom of yours and dance, dance, dance..
Anyway, back to what I'm saying --- I like the one I wrote. Who would've thought roses could be so mean? Since, roses are always used to show love, love, yidih yadah, love -- i tried to write something about it in a different perspective..
Cheers..
SONG: Jenny by the click 5
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