Every Rose Has Its Thorn
A 10-Minute Writing Prompt Response by Jonathan Chew
Phil was just a normal average boy, with a normal average life, and a normal average way of looking at the world. He had always has a problem connecting with others but mostly with himself. He felt distant, cold, and a little lost sometimes and he didn’t know why.
One day, while walking home from school, he stumbled upon a bush he had never seen before. It was gorgeous, big, bushy, and covered with thorns. It was a brisk January afternoon in a small, tall mountain town in Iowa and it was peculiar that a spring bush would be so lush on the side of this barren empty road he was presently walking.
There was a strong smell of bayberry in the air and that reminded him of the home cooked pies his mother used to make when he was just starting elementary school.
He was about to move on except a shiny tiny object caught his eye. It was an iPad, just lying there. Who’s was it?
It was on, and playing a video and on the video was a tiny little poet, that looked oddly like Shakespeare. The wind around him picked up and the leaves blew back and forth and all of a sudden stopped, as if someone had chosen to stop blowing.
It was Shakespeare that was playing and he was reciting the soliloquy from Hamlet. Well… it seemed like Hamlet. Maybe it wasn’t. As he stepped closer, he saw a dozen roses staring at him on the bush.
And the poet said, “For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?”
A snap, a twitch, a snag. Then empty footprints and clothes in the snow where Phil had once been and eternity took over. And the wind started back up and on the bush was a 13th rose, there to bring beauty to the world.
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