
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
I knew the only thing that needed to move to the new house was the rose. The single red rose was the last memory I had of Johnson. This memory needed to stay with me forever. I wondered how I could keep the rose alive when in reality, I knew it wouldn’t live much longer. Johnson had been my one and only and I didn’t know what I would do without him. When the rose finally died, I suddenly realized I was on my own. Until then, I never knew what it felt like to be free. To be alive.
More Friday Fictioneers stories can be found here.
4 responses to “Red Rose”
You set me up well; I was surprised at the ending. Well done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah. That was a twist. Now I’m wondering what went on between her and Johnson.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hope she gets healed from her grief sooner rather than later. It’s tough when beauty (of the rose) and pain (of Johnson’s memory) are linked like that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well composed. I am optimistic about where this story may go. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person