Florida
イーグランツ
- Joined
- Jul 1, 2007
- Messages
- 1,184
This is my first time entering a WWYP contest. I'm not betting on winning, this was all mostly just for fun (and for that awesome writer's icon ;o)! The theme for this contest really caught my interest, so this story was pretty fun to write. I realize that I might've made some mistakes in my story, so bare with me. Also, I will be editing this story when that be the case... I do have until Oct. 1st, afterall 
Hope you can enjoy.
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Elegant, Purple Rose
The elegant purple rose stands straight and tall, towering over its neighbor, the white rose. Both the purple and the white roses have been in competition, to see which one of them can outshine the other. However, these two rivals share similar lifestyle: they are both extremely healthy, watered each day, and are planted where the sun can hit them so delicately.
The purple rose knows that it exceeds over the white. Its thorns are sharp, it has many petals to display, and its roots are many; sinking underneath the surface, extending its reach to the limit. The purple rose takes a glance upon its enemy, and sees a disaster. Its thorns have been trimmed, dulled to a round lump. Its leaves have been picked off by the master’s children, and the purple rose could only imagine how short its roots buried underneath.
How the purple rose loathes its companion, for the master gives more attention to the white rose than itself. Everyday as the giant pours the cold, quenching water, the purple rose pays close attention to the amount of water given to both itself and its adversary. Every time, the purple rose swears that the white receives a few more drops of the delicious liquid. Is it because the master simply enjoys the white rose more than the purple? No, that’s not the reason, it couldn’t be.
Is it because the master feels sorry for the white rose, thus giving it more attention than itself? Yes, that’s the only reasonable explanation there is! The master pities the white rose; it must feel guilty that her offspring have been tormenting it. Now the purple rose understands, it is still the master’s favorite; the master is just too bashful to show it in front of the white rose, that’s all!
Now the purple rose felt back in control, it regained its confidence and pride, which the white rose had so sneakily took from it. The purple rose was letting the little white freak get to its mind. Why would it even let itself think of such things, being inferior to its antagonist? Bah!
Light was fading, the sky was getting darker. The hours in the day go by so slow, when all that one is doing is sitting, and waiting. Waiting for the time of the day when the master comes out from her domain and shares to the roses and the rest of her creations, with some water. The purple rose glanced at the door, and not to its surprise the humongous female appeared from behind the gigantic wooden shelter.
The woman is wearing some sort of shield on her top, what is the use of it? The purple rose notices the shade which showed against her eyes, is that the reason? Is this shield-like-device meant to keep the sun away? Why would anyone want to do such a thing, when the sun is the source of life? The purple rose has wondered these questions for a long time, but it can never receive an accurate answer. The purple rose has to decide its questions on its own. It can never truly be correct, or incorrect. Even its questions, could never be genuine.
In her right hand, the master carries a familiar device: the container of the precious water. This container is extremely vital, it keeps the roses, the grass, the bird-infested tree, even the hated weeds, and the rest of the master’s creations alive. The purple rose has come to name this device, the Life Saver. However, the giant female hesitates to supply her creations water, which they treasure so dearly. Instead she walks past her garden, ignoring the loud cries for water coming from the other plants.
The purple rose is starting to become impatient, watching as the master is bypassing. The purple rose is getting thirstier, the Life Saver is so close to it, yet the actual time it will take to receive some of its insides can be predicted to be several minutes. The purple rose now begins to feel the sun’s intense heat beat down upon it, never has the purple rose denied the sun, but the extreme conditions are beginning to burn.
It now stares at the master, watching as she walks around her garden, singing a tune that the purple rose does not recognize. The purple rose then looks around, and notices the miserable attitudes displayed from its fellow companions. It takes a glance back up at its master, and then glares at the sun, cursing the heat it gives; for it dare not curse its master.
Finally the master walks up to the garden, and bends over. The purple rose watches as the liquid escapes out of the holes from the Life Saver, it listens to nearby plants and bushes rejoicing. Anxiously it waited as the master approached slowly, watering each living thing in the garden, soaking them with the cold blessings from the Life Saver. The master is approaching nearer and nearer… getting closer by the second. The purple rose can’t wait, he wants to be drowned in water.
The Life Saver now leans over the white rose, pouring out what seems to be tons of gallons of water. Instantly the purple rose grows jealous, losing what little patience it had for the master. After several more seconds, the Life Saver finally starts to approach the purple rose. Finally, it’s the purple rose’s turn!
The Life Saver tipped over, the purple rose starts to see water peep out through the holes.
“Mom!” a high-pitched voice calls, muffled from the distance.
“Yes, dear?” the master replies.
“Come here please!” says the child.
“Okay, coming. Hold on.” the master stops tipping over the Life Saver, straightens her knees as she stands up straight, and walks back into her shelter. The purple rose feels anger rising, it grows furious at the ignorance and stupidity of the master’s offspring. How dare the child interrupts the master, what makes the child think it could just c— the purple rose stops ranting, suddenly it feels cooled down, it is now being drenched in water. The purple rose looks up, and through the blurry image of water sees the master, bent back down, tipping the Life Saver above.
“It’s nothing honey, it’s just a scratch.” the master says.
Early the next morning, the purple rose is shocked to wake up to the master, supplied with razor-sharp clippers. The purple rose pays close attention to the master, and watches as she hastened down the garden, making a loud clunk! as her feet protectors contact with the flat rocks placed on the ground.
The woman stops in front of the purple rose, and stares at it for a good amount of time.
“Yes, this seems like a worthy rose. Its thorns are sharp, it has many petals to display, and I tell by how healthy it looks that its roots sink deep underneath, extending its reach to the limit. Such a beautiful creation deserves no less than a worthy home.” the master states.
She then bends down, stretches her clipper’s claws out to the farthest length, and snips the mid-center of the rose, separating the purple rose from its fine roots. The pain is incredibly horrendous. The purple rose whines and whimpers out of misery, but the master does not seem to care. Does the master even hear the rose?
“You will be a decoration of memory, placed in my new vase.” the woman says.
Suddenly the purple rose forgets all of the pain, its spirit begins to rise, it was about to leap out of the master’s hands with joy. For a rose to be evicted from its soil home, and be moved to a vase, is every rose’s dream. There is no higher honor than being displayed to others, to resemble the master’s elegance.
Instantly, there was intense pain.
The purple rose awakes, but is blocked from any view of the sun. Instead it is staring at a big yellow skyscraper, which is the source of its hurt. The huge skyscraper is crushing the purple rose, bending and deforming its perfect body. The purple rose is helpless, it can not move. All it can do is cry for help, and so it does.
Its cries are faint. Instead of hearing its own cries of pain, the purple rose hears unfamiliar yelps coming from an unknown source. Is it the yellow skyscraper, making all of the commotion?
“Oh honey, did you fall?!” the master asks the yellow skyscraper.
“Y-yeah!” the yellow skyscraper stutters.
Now the purple rose understands, the yellow skyscraper isn’t a skyscraper at all! It’s, in fact, one of the miniature masters.
“Come here, baby…” says the master. The purple rose now feels the pain release, as the child is removed from its territory. But its view has still not changed; it is still looking toward the skies, instead of the remaining garden. Is… is it bent?
“Th-the flower p-poked me!” the child complains. The woman and her child now walk back inside, forgetting all about the purple rose. What a horrible way to wake up from such a wonderful dream…
Clip! Clip! The purple rose awakes to annoying noises, continually repeating itself. The purple rose sees the master, right in front of it. What was she doing? The purple rose glides view down her arm, now her hand, and now… clippers? Suddenly the purple rose realizes how much pain it’s actually in! The master is cutting off its thorns! The purple rose begs the master to stop, but again she does not hear it.
The purple rose takes a glance at itself; only a few thorns left!
Clip! Clip! Clip!
The chaotic pain softens, yet still blazes within the purple rose.
“That should do it!” the master says, and now walks away, heading for her shelter.
Why would the master want to cut off its thorns? Doesn’t she want a rose that resembles her as beautiful? Chopping away its thorns is like chopping away one’s reputation…
Is it because of yesterday morning? Is her child landing on the purple rose the entire reason for such cruelty? Instantly the purple rose notices its current view, it is back to its normal position. The purple rose now views behind it, and sees a thick stick leaning against it. Or is it the other way around…? Is this stick supporting the purple rose? Then the purple rose must’ve truly of been damaged. The purple rose’s petals are seen laying all over the ground. Idiotic child…
The purple rose looks at its rival, the white. Now... now, they are not so different. Both set of thorns are dull, the petals on both are of a short amount, but the purple rose is still confident its roots grow deeper underground than the white. The purple rose feels so shameful.
The front door begins to open. Out comes the master, differently set with items. Now she is holding a vase, and scissors in her other hand. Now joy is replacing the anger and rage that fills the purple rose. Now it starts to think happy thoughts, thinking it knows what’s going on.
The master stops at the white rose, to the purple’s surprise. She hesitates to perform any sort of action, then after a while begins to move. Her arm is reaching out, grabbing the body of the white rose. What’s going on…? Quickly the master yanks out the white rose from its soil, revealing many, many roots.
Now the master hesitates again, and looks around the garden. Her eyes meet upon the purple rose, and the master begins the think aloud.
“Hmm… you will do.” she says. She lays the white rose and the scissors on the ground, and then reaches out for the purple rose. Thank goodness, the purple rose was beginning to think that it would be left unnoticed.
The master yanks out the purple rose, just as fast as she did with the white, leaving the support-stick behind.. But something is wrong… The purple rose looks at its bottom: short roots? Short roots?! The master must’ve not of pulled the entire purple rose out, yeah, that must be it! But now the purple rose realizes that it felt no pain in the process… its roots have always been short.
The purple rose can hear the rest of the garden laughing, mocking, and teasing. It felt embarrassed… All of this time, the white rose’s roots actually were longer than the purple’s.
But no matter, which rose is getting put into the vase? That’s right, the purple rose! There is no need to feel shameful, obviously the master chose the purple rose for a reason! It is most definitely full of quality.
The master puts down the vase gently on the floor, and grabs the scissors. The master is such an unorganized human being. The two razors spread far apart, prepared to slice-and-dice! The purple rose is ready for the pain, because it knows it will all be worth it in the end.
Clip!
The roots break free from the stem. And now the purple rose’s stem is opened, ready to be placed in a vase full of water. Now the master picks up the white rose, as she lays down the purple. She repeats the same process.
So both of them are being transported into a vase? Surely the white rose is getting a different treatment. There just isn’t enough room for the two roses in the same vase. Both roses and scissors in one hand, while the vase in the other, the master walks back into her shelter.
She places her equipment and the two roses on the nearest table, and leaves the room. The purple rose glares at the white. How could it of gotten this far? Surely the purple rose is still more elegant than the white, even in its messed-up condition.
The master walks back into the room, with a nail, a hammer, and some string. She now hammers the nail into the wall, right under her favorite painting. She now reaches for the purple rose, picks it up, and walks over to the wall with the nail shoved through it.
What is going on? This is not a familiar process to be transferred into a vase, what is the master thinking? She begins to tie the string around the purple rose’s end stem, making sure that it is tight and well secure. The purple rose is now raised, and placed in an awkward position. It… it’s looking down.
Another petal drops off, the purple rose is too weak to hold on tightly. The purple rose watches as its once beautiful petal floats down, soaring through the windless air.
With what little energy that remains, the purple rose raises its view point. It’s now looking at the family table, with a vase placed in the center. And in the vase, is the white rose.
Poor, once elegant, purple rose.
Fin - 22UP //
Hope you can enjoy.
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Elegant, Purple Rose
The elegant purple rose stands straight and tall, towering over its neighbor, the white rose. Both the purple and the white roses have been in competition, to see which one of them can outshine the other. However, these two rivals share similar lifestyle: they are both extremely healthy, watered each day, and are planted where the sun can hit them so delicately.
The purple rose knows that it exceeds over the white. Its thorns are sharp, it has many petals to display, and its roots are many; sinking underneath the surface, extending its reach to the limit. The purple rose takes a glance upon its enemy, and sees a disaster. Its thorns have been trimmed, dulled to a round lump. Its leaves have been picked off by the master’s children, and the purple rose could only imagine how short its roots buried underneath.
How the purple rose loathes its companion, for the master gives more attention to the white rose than itself. Everyday as the giant pours the cold, quenching water, the purple rose pays close attention to the amount of water given to both itself and its adversary. Every time, the purple rose swears that the white receives a few more drops of the delicious liquid. Is it because the master simply enjoys the white rose more than the purple? No, that’s not the reason, it couldn’t be.
Is it because the master feels sorry for the white rose, thus giving it more attention than itself? Yes, that’s the only reasonable explanation there is! The master pities the white rose; it must feel guilty that her offspring have been tormenting it. Now the purple rose understands, it is still the master’s favorite; the master is just too bashful to show it in front of the white rose, that’s all!
Now the purple rose felt back in control, it regained its confidence and pride, which the white rose had so sneakily took from it. The purple rose was letting the little white freak get to its mind. Why would it even let itself think of such things, being inferior to its antagonist? Bah!
Light was fading, the sky was getting darker. The hours in the day go by so slow, when all that one is doing is sitting, and waiting. Waiting for the time of the day when the master comes out from her domain and shares to the roses and the rest of her creations, with some water. The purple rose glanced at the door, and not to its surprise the humongous female appeared from behind the gigantic wooden shelter.
The woman is wearing some sort of shield on her top, what is the use of it? The purple rose notices the shade which showed against her eyes, is that the reason? Is this shield-like-device meant to keep the sun away? Why would anyone want to do such a thing, when the sun is the source of life? The purple rose has wondered these questions for a long time, but it can never receive an accurate answer. The purple rose has to decide its questions on its own. It can never truly be correct, or incorrect. Even its questions, could never be genuine.
In her right hand, the master carries a familiar device: the container of the precious water. This container is extremely vital, it keeps the roses, the grass, the bird-infested tree, even the hated weeds, and the rest of the master’s creations alive. The purple rose has come to name this device, the Life Saver. However, the giant female hesitates to supply her creations water, which they treasure so dearly. Instead she walks past her garden, ignoring the loud cries for water coming from the other plants.
The purple rose is starting to become impatient, watching as the master is bypassing. The purple rose is getting thirstier, the Life Saver is so close to it, yet the actual time it will take to receive some of its insides can be predicted to be several minutes. The purple rose now begins to feel the sun’s intense heat beat down upon it, never has the purple rose denied the sun, but the extreme conditions are beginning to burn.
It now stares at the master, watching as she walks around her garden, singing a tune that the purple rose does not recognize. The purple rose then looks around, and notices the miserable attitudes displayed from its fellow companions. It takes a glance back up at its master, and then glares at the sun, cursing the heat it gives; for it dare not curse its master.
Finally the master walks up to the garden, and bends over. The purple rose watches as the liquid escapes out of the holes from the Life Saver, it listens to nearby plants and bushes rejoicing. Anxiously it waited as the master approached slowly, watering each living thing in the garden, soaking them with the cold blessings from the Life Saver. The master is approaching nearer and nearer… getting closer by the second. The purple rose can’t wait, he wants to be drowned in water.
The Life Saver now leans over the white rose, pouring out what seems to be tons of gallons of water. Instantly the purple rose grows jealous, losing what little patience it had for the master. After several more seconds, the Life Saver finally starts to approach the purple rose. Finally, it’s the purple rose’s turn!
The Life Saver tipped over, the purple rose starts to see water peep out through the holes.
“Mom!” a high-pitched voice calls, muffled from the distance.
“Yes, dear?” the master replies.
“Come here please!” says the child.
“Okay, coming. Hold on.” the master stops tipping over the Life Saver, straightens her knees as she stands up straight, and walks back into her shelter. The purple rose feels anger rising, it grows furious at the ignorance and stupidity of the master’s offspring. How dare the child interrupts the master, what makes the child think it could just c— the purple rose stops ranting, suddenly it feels cooled down, it is now being drenched in water. The purple rose looks up, and through the blurry image of water sees the master, bent back down, tipping the Life Saver above.
“It’s nothing honey, it’s just a scratch.” the master says.
***
Early the next morning, the purple rose is shocked to wake up to the master, supplied with razor-sharp clippers. The purple rose pays close attention to the master, and watches as she hastened down the garden, making a loud clunk! as her feet protectors contact with the flat rocks placed on the ground.
The woman stops in front of the purple rose, and stares at it for a good amount of time.
“Yes, this seems like a worthy rose. Its thorns are sharp, it has many petals to display, and I tell by how healthy it looks that its roots sink deep underneath, extending its reach to the limit. Such a beautiful creation deserves no less than a worthy home.” the master states.
She then bends down, stretches her clipper’s claws out to the farthest length, and snips the mid-center of the rose, separating the purple rose from its fine roots. The pain is incredibly horrendous. The purple rose whines and whimpers out of misery, but the master does not seem to care. Does the master even hear the rose?
“You will be a decoration of memory, placed in my new vase.” the woman says.
Suddenly the purple rose forgets all of the pain, its spirit begins to rise, it was about to leap out of the master’s hands with joy. For a rose to be evicted from its soil home, and be moved to a vase, is every rose’s dream. There is no higher honor than being displayed to others, to resemble the master’s elegance.
Instantly, there was intense pain.
The purple rose awakes, but is blocked from any view of the sun. Instead it is staring at a big yellow skyscraper, which is the source of its hurt. The huge skyscraper is crushing the purple rose, bending and deforming its perfect body. The purple rose is helpless, it can not move. All it can do is cry for help, and so it does.
Its cries are faint. Instead of hearing its own cries of pain, the purple rose hears unfamiliar yelps coming from an unknown source. Is it the yellow skyscraper, making all of the commotion?
“Oh honey, did you fall?!” the master asks the yellow skyscraper.
“Y-yeah!” the yellow skyscraper stutters.
Now the purple rose understands, the yellow skyscraper isn’t a skyscraper at all! It’s, in fact, one of the miniature masters.
“Come here, baby…” says the master. The purple rose now feels the pain release, as the child is removed from its territory. But its view has still not changed; it is still looking toward the skies, instead of the remaining garden. Is… is it bent?
“Th-the flower p-poked me!” the child complains. The woman and her child now walk back inside, forgetting all about the purple rose. What a horrible way to wake up from such a wonderful dream…
***
Clip! Clip! The purple rose awakes to annoying noises, continually repeating itself. The purple rose sees the master, right in front of it. What was she doing? The purple rose glides view down her arm, now her hand, and now… clippers? Suddenly the purple rose realizes how much pain it’s actually in! The master is cutting off its thorns! The purple rose begs the master to stop, but again she does not hear it.
The purple rose takes a glance at itself; only a few thorns left!
Clip! Clip! Clip!
The chaotic pain softens, yet still blazes within the purple rose.
“That should do it!” the master says, and now walks away, heading for her shelter.
Why would the master want to cut off its thorns? Doesn’t she want a rose that resembles her as beautiful? Chopping away its thorns is like chopping away one’s reputation…
Is it because of yesterday morning? Is her child landing on the purple rose the entire reason for such cruelty? Instantly the purple rose notices its current view, it is back to its normal position. The purple rose now views behind it, and sees a thick stick leaning against it. Or is it the other way around…? Is this stick supporting the purple rose? Then the purple rose must’ve truly of been damaged. The purple rose’s petals are seen laying all over the ground. Idiotic child…
The purple rose looks at its rival, the white. Now... now, they are not so different. Both set of thorns are dull, the petals on both are of a short amount, but the purple rose is still confident its roots grow deeper underground than the white. The purple rose feels so shameful.
The front door begins to open. Out comes the master, differently set with items. Now she is holding a vase, and scissors in her other hand. Now joy is replacing the anger and rage that fills the purple rose. Now it starts to think happy thoughts, thinking it knows what’s going on.
The master stops at the white rose, to the purple’s surprise. She hesitates to perform any sort of action, then after a while begins to move. Her arm is reaching out, grabbing the body of the white rose. What’s going on…? Quickly the master yanks out the white rose from its soil, revealing many, many roots.
Now the master hesitates again, and looks around the garden. Her eyes meet upon the purple rose, and the master begins the think aloud.
“Hmm… you will do.” she says. She lays the white rose and the scissors on the ground, and then reaches out for the purple rose. Thank goodness, the purple rose was beginning to think that it would be left unnoticed.
The master yanks out the purple rose, just as fast as she did with the white, leaving the support-stick behind.. But something is wrong… The purple rose looks at its bottom: short roots? Short roots?! The master must’ve not of pulled the entire purple rose out, yeah, that must be it! But now the purple rose realizes that it felt no pain in the process… its roots have always been short.
The purple rose can hear the rest of the garden laughing, mocking, and teasing. It felt embarrassed… All of this time, the white rose’s roots actually were longer than the purple’s.
But no matter, which rose is getting put into the vase? That’s right, the purple rose! There is no need to feel shameful, obviously the master chose the purple rose for a reason! It is most definitely full of quality.
The master puts down the vase gently on the floor, and grabs the scissors. The master is such an unorganized human being. The two razors spread far apart, prepared to slice-and-dice! The purple rose is ready for the pain, because it knows it will all be worth it in the end.
Clip!
The roots break free from the stem. And now the purple rose’s stem is opened, ready to be placed in a vase full of water. Now the master picks up the white rose, as she lays down the purple. She repeats the same process.
So both of them are being transported into a vase? Surely the white rose is getting a different treatment. There just isn’t enough room for the two roses in the same vase. Both roses and scissors in one hand, while the vase in the other, the master walks back into her shelter.
She places her equipment and the two roses on the nearest table, and leaves the room. The purple rose glares at the white. How could it of gotten this far? Surely the purple rose is still more elegant than the white, even in its messed-up condition.
The master walks back into the room, with a nail, a hammer, and some string. She now hammers the nail into the wall, right under her favorite painting. She now reaches for the purple rose, picks it up, and walks over to the wall with the nail shoved through it.
What is going on? This is not a familiar process to be transferred into a vase, what is the master thinking? She begins to tie the string around the purple rose’s end stem, making sure that it is tight and well secure. The purple rose is now raised, and placed in an awkward position. It… it’s looking down.
***
Another petal drops off, the purple rose is too weak to hold on tightly. The purple rose watches as its once beautiful petal floats down, soaring through the windless air.
With what little energy that remains, the purple rose raises its view point. It’s now looking at the family table, with a vase placed in the center. And in the vase, is the white rose.
Poor, once elegant, purple rose.
Fin - 22UP //
