My Midnight Rose and I

I look out my window and onto the rose garden. Its beautiful, really. Pink, yellow red, even white roses make a gorgeous arrangement before me.
In the center of the garden is a rose that I have never seen before, it is a blue looking color. But I know full well that roses do not come in blue, yet my eyes do not deceive me. I long to go up to the rose and finally know what color it is. If only I could get out of this house.
To climb down is too far, I'm on a second story I'd surely fall before I get half way out. But Father wont let me out, his afraid that I'll draw too much attention from the gentlemen passing by. So I stay in my room.
In the middle of the night I hear something, a call at my window, I look out and see no one, but the rose, that blue rose is shinning almost glowing in the moonlight.
As quickly as I can I hurry down the steps, the dirt is cold against my feet as I run into the garden. The stone path that leads into the garden is underneath me as I run there.
I kneel at the rose bed, the blue one is a beacon of light in the darkness but now that I'm here I see that the rose isn't blue at all, its black. The color of midnight on the warmest summer night, and its glowing in the darkness welcoming all into its light.
'Emma, what are you doing out here?'� Father yells from the door. I look at the garden, my freedom once again limited; even in the moonlight. I look up at him, my father is intimidating, tall and strong. I smile hoping he'll see the beauty in the midnight rose.
'Father, look. A black rose, have you ever seen one like it?'� he looks sad and distant, as if remembering something.
'Yes, your mother's rose garden had one. The night after she passed away the rose died. Then in your garden a new one bloomed.'� his voice was soft and gentle as he remembered mother. I smile.
'Don't worry, I'll take this one.'�
'Emma, no!'� he ran for me but I picked the rose, the one in the very center of the garden. As I did the world seemed to get a bit darker.
'Emma,'� Father's voice was a whisper, I look to him then to my rose. The pure darkness now was painted, with long red ribbons. I touch one of them and the color was inked into my hand. Father stood on the outside edge of the garden.
I looked down at my stomach where my fathers eyes had focused. A familiar ribbon of red ran across me. I smiled weakly. The rose and I were bleeding together, that or one of us made the other bleed.
'I love you Father.'� Tears swelled in his eyes.
'Love you too, angel.'�
The ribbons slowed their dance and my midnight rose and I lay silent in the bed. Our ribbons mixing and entangling together. And we lay entangled together.

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