The Rose by Mysticwolf
He stood reading the afternoon paper, waiting
for the commuter buss and trying to ignore the
hustle and bustle of the Friday afternoon downtown
rush. He suddenly got that feeling that he was
being watched, the hair stood up on the back of
his neck and a slight wash of Goosebumps rippled
up his back. Using his peripheral vision, he turned
slightly to see his stalker, staring intently
at him from a few feet away.
She could not have been five feet
tall and appeared to be in her eighty’s.
Her face was a mass of wrinkled skin and her lips
had that sunk in look of an elderly person with
no teeth at all.
What really caught his attention
was her eyes, like a birds almost. The pupils
were large and black and seemed to be alive with
boundless energy, tiny sparkles of reflected light
danced in them,….and they were locked on
him like a heat seeking missile.
His friends always said he was an
easy mark for the homeless to score a few bucks
from. Not that he cared what they said, it made
him feel good inside to give two or three dollars
to someone that was in need. He folded his paper
and turned to meet her gaze as she shuffled toward
him in small sliding half-steps. She was a classic
bag lady, carrying an ancient looking canvas handbag
hanging from her right arm.
His heart went out to her as it
always did when he saw someone truly in need and
not like some of the wino’s and drug addict’s
he often encountered in the downtown area.
He reached into his jacket pocket
and withdrew his wallet, quickly seeing that the
smallest bill he had was ten, which he withdrew
and handed it to her as she got within an arms
length.
“Here Mame, “he said,
“ get yourself a good hot meal.” Her
wrinkled lips turned up into a radiant smile as
she took the bill with a trembling hand. She then
reached into her bag and withdrew a rose, deep
red, and reached up with small ,shaking fingers,
pinned it to the lapel of his jacket. With a rasping
voice she said.” To pro…tect you from
e…vil.”
He stared down at the petals of
the rose, and they seemed to engulf his senses
completely. Never had he seen such a thing of
exquisite beauty. He bought roses over the years
for his wife, but none like this. It appeared
to made from velvet, and the folds of petal’s
seemed to ripple with varying shades of vermilion
and crimson. He looked up to say thank you but
she was no where to be seen. He glanced up and
down the busy sidewalk, turned to look behind
him, but nowhere……How in the hell……he
pondered. No one could move that fast!
He quickly pushed the thought aside
as his buss pulled up and he made his way to his
seat.
His wife met him at the door with
the usual welcome home peck on the lips. “So
how’s my tiger of the business world?’
she asked. “Well!” she exclaimed, “what’s
this ?” as she examined the rose still pinned
to his lapel. “Don’t tell me I’ve
got some competition!” she continued jokingly.
“Yeah right!” he exclaimed
with a chuckle,”…..in the form of a
little old bag lady who wanted to thank me for
the donation.”
He poured himself a brandy as they
made small talk about the events of the day while
she busied herself over the stove.
He was just getting ready to remove
his jacket when the doorbell rang. “Could
you get that honey?” she asked.
“Sure……
CHALLENGE
If you feel inspired to make a graphic and matching
webset for this story. Please submit it at Back
to Basics.
