Where the Wild Roses Sleep Forever
folder
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
778
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
778
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Where the Wild Roses Sleep Forever
Disclaimer: i dont own the song.
A/N if anyone can tell me how to do the italics on here it would be great. ** blah** mean italicy bits
Where the Wild Roses Sleep Forever
**Why they call me it, I do not know, for my name was Elisa Dane**
The couple in the middle of the dance floor swayed gently to the slow beat of “Where the Wild Roses Grow.” She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him. She loved it, it drove her crazy with lust, with love and it soothed her when she was upset.
He sang to her in his smooth, deep voice. “From the first day I saw her, I knew she was the one.” She sighed contentedly and shifted closer to the object of her affections. He dipped her and spun her around the dance floor. The beautiful red roses had climbed the lattice around the patio and set a seductive haze that bewitched her heart, the soft sound of the water from the river heightening the romantic atmosphere.
The song ended and she strolled to their table to take a sip of her champagne. Her boyfriend walked to the classy headwaiter and requested “Where the Wild Roses Grow” to be played again and slipped him a fifty-dollar bill, telling him to keep the change.
The first strains of the violins floated into the warm, still air of the perfect evening and she blushed as her boyfriend convinced her to dance once more to the song; their song.
**On the second day he came with a single red rose, he said give me ‘your loss and your sorrow,’ I nodded my head as I lay on the bed**
She sighed again, this time causing him to look down at her and ask what was wrong. She moved a light brown curl that hung down one side of her face and went place it behind her ear when he brushed her hand aside and lovingly smoothed it behind her ear and shook her head gently, causing more springy light brown curls to fall about her face.
“No, nothing is wrong, nothing at all,” she whispered.
They swayed to the music; the rhythm making each dip, each turn, each step more treasured than the last, as the slow tempo filled their souls. Their hearts beating in unison and their breaths mingling in the warm evening air filled with the scent of bloomed roses. Leaning in together they turned and held each other close. He dipped her again and spun her around bringing her back into his arms and wrapping them around her waist.
Leaning down he whispered in her ear, “come with me.”
She hesitated a fraction of a second and then nodded. She went over to the table and picked up her coat and purse. He softly kissed her red lips before walking down to the bank of the river, where the most beautiful roses grew. The moon had risen fully and bathed the river and the wild roses in its’ light. Giving it an ethereal, otherworldly quality. The water shimmering and dancing in the quiet night. Nothing but the song softly playing and the quiet running of the water could be heard.
**On the third day he took me to the river, he showed me the roses and we kissed. The last thing I heard was a muttered word as he knelt above me with a rock in his fist.**
She wrapped her coat around her more tightly to block the wind and shivered, from much more than the biting cold. He placed his hand behind her head and on the small of her back and gently lay her on the bank of the river. She closed her eyes; just listening; really listening to the words of the song. Humming softly under her breath. Tears gathered in her eyes, as the meaning of the words of their song became crystal clear to her. Much like the delicate crystal rose he had given her that night. A tear slipped, from beneath her closed lids, down her face as she heard her boyfriend mutter something tenderly, lovingly… before he ended her life with a strike of a smooth, insignificant rock.
**On the last day I took her to where the wild roses grow, she lie on the bank, the wind light as a thief and I kissed her goodbye and said all beauty must die. And I leant down and planted a rose between her teeth.**
He leant down on the grassy bank, softly kissed her forehead and breaking off the most perfect blood red rose before placing it gently between her pearly white teeth and said softly as he walked away from the classic sleeping beauty that had no prince to kiss her. And so would never wake,
“All beauty must die, even yours, my rose, my love…. My Elisa Dane”
A/N if anyone can tell me how to do the italics on here it would be great. ** blah** mean italicy bits
Where the Wild Roses Sleep Forever
**Why they call me it, I do not know, for my name was Elisa Dane**
The couple in the middle of the dance floor swayed gently to the slow beat of “Where the Wild Roses Grow.” She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him. She loved it, it drove her crazy with lust, with love and it soothed her when she was upset.
He sang to her in his smooth, deep voice. “From the first day I saw her, I knew she was the one.” She sighed contentedly and shifted closer to the object of her affections. He dipped her and spun her around the dance floor. The beautiful red roses had climbed the lattice around the patio and set a seductive haze that bewitched her heart, the soft sound of the water from the river heightening the romantic atmosphere.
The song ended and she strolled to their table to take a sip of her champagne. Her boyfriend walked to the classy headwaiter and requested “Where the Wild Roses Grow” to be played again and slipped him a fifty-dollar bill, telling him to keep the change.
The first strains of the violins floated into the warm, still air of the perfect evening and she blushed as her boyfriend convinced her to dance once more to the song; their song.
**On the second day he came with a single red rose, he said give me ‘your loss and your sorrow,’ I nodded my head as I lay on the bed**
She sighed again, this time causing him to look down at her and ask what was wrong. She moved a light brown curl that hung down one side of her face and went place it behind her ear when he brushed her hand aside and lovingly smoothed it behind her ear and shook her head gently, causing more springy light brown curls to fall about her face.
“No, nothing is wrong, nothing at all,” she whispered.
They swayed to the music; the rhythm making each dip, each turn, each step more treasured than the last, as the slow tempo filled their souls. Their hearts beating in unison and their breaths mingling in the warm evening air filled with the scent of bloomed roses. Leaning in together they turned and held each other close. He dipped her again and spun her around bringing her back into his arms and wrapping them around her waist.
Leaning down he whispered in her ear, “come with me.”
She hesitated a fraction of a second and then nodded. She went over to the table and picked up her coat and purse. He softly kissed her red lips before walking down to the bank of the river, where the most beautiful roses grew. The moon had risen fully and bathed the river and the wild roses in its’ light. Giving it an ethereal, otherworldly quality. The water shimmering and dancing in the quiet night. Nothing but the song softly playing and the quiet running of the water could be heard.
**On the third day he took me to the river, he showed me the roses and we kissed. The last thing I heard was a muttered word as he knelt above me with a rock in his fist.**
She wrapped her coat around her more tightly to block the wind and shivered, from much more than the biting cold. He placed his hand behind her head and on the small of her back and gently lay her on the bank of the river. She closed her eyes; just listening; really listening to the words of the song. Humming softly under her breath. Tears gathered in her eyes, as the meaning of the words of their song became crystal clear to her. Much like the delicate crystal rose he had given her that night. A tear slipped, from beneath her closed lids, down her face as she heard her boyfriend mutter something tenderly, lovingly… before he ended her life with a strike of a smooth, insignificant rock.
**On the last day I took her to where the wild roses grow, she lie on the bank, the wind light as a thief and I kissed her goodbye and said all beauty must die. And I leant down and planted a rose between her teeth.**
He leant down on the grassy bank, softly kissed her forehead and breaking off the most perfect blood red rose before placing it gently between her pearly white teeth and said softly as he walked away from the classic sleeping beauty that had no prince to kiss her. And so would never wake,
“All beauty must die, even yours, my rose, my love…. My Elisa Dane”