Tale 100- The Wilting Roses

 Staring down at her book, the Traveler gently turned each page. Tales of beasts, of sirens, of stars, of mice and of men, of ghosts and globes, of bugs and crows…of blooms and blossoms. The Traveler took a deep breath and pushed back her cloak slightly, the torn rags underneath being gently pushed and pulled by the night wind. She raised her quill for the final time, ready to write her own tale. The tale of ‘the Wilting Roses.’

‘Once upon a time, in a cottage by a mountain, there was a kind, innocent daughter who was the older sister of two brothers, both of whom she loved dearly. Adored by her family, the girl was given everything she could ever dream of- two wonderful parents, a seamstress and an hourglass-maker, and two fun and sweet little brothers, one dramatic, and one shy. They all shared a room together, acting out stories and playing pretend, and would spend their days doing chores or making flower crowns. One strange day, though, the girl was sweeping snow from the doorway when a crow dropped a letter down to her, a letter from King Calius, who hadn’t been seen in some time. Rushing to tell her mother, it was an invite to a ball, promising a night of guests, dancing and pleasantries for all attendees. The young girl begged her parents to let her go, the two agreeing on the condition that she was home before too late and she behaved well, the older girl promising. And so, her mother sewed her a simple but beautiful cyan dress, stitching each seam and putting in a week’s worth of work into the garment for her daughter. She also sewed her a thin, opaque cloak to put over top, to ensure warmth, and fashioned a rose barrette for her hair, everyone in awe of just how pretty she looked in such an outfit. The night rolled around, the girl slipping on some specially made shoes and taking a lantern for the trek, and headed out, promising to be back soon so she could tell the youngest a bedtime story. As she walked up the mountain, however, she got a strange feeling and contemplated going back, but continued forward nonetheless, growing excited for the party to come. Arriving at the iron gates, she was in awe at the abundance of flowers, pulling them open and entering the castle through two imposing wooden doors. Despite the lantern lighting her way, it was still extremely dark when she entered, the girl calling out to see if anyone was there. And suddenly, as if by magic, the castle seemed to brighten up. She heard footsteps and turned, only to come face to face with a terrifying monster, grey and with frightening red eyes, which caused her to drop her lantern in fear. Despite this, though, the beast spoke with an air of elegance, revealing he was the King but in a transformed state, and apologizing for scaring her. He led her through to the ballroom, offering her a delicious red apple and allowing her to stand by the fire to warm herself after the trek up the mountain, leaving her cloak on a little hatstand by the door. As the girl warmed herself, Calius moved toward the table, pulling away several covers and revealing a feast. The girl had never seen so much food in one place, mouth watering at the expanse of delicacies and treats. Her gaze lingered on the cream buns, Calius encouraging her to eat her fill, and then excusing himself for a moment, walking out of the door whilst the girl was immersed in the delicious food. She tried little pieces of pie, cakes, and the freshest spring water she’d ever tasted. All of it tasted divine, and she thought of her brothers, knowing they too would love to try all the food. After some time, the girl noticed that Calius had not yet returned, and there were no other guests about. She decided to take a peek outside, but found the door was locked. Sure it must have been an accident, she called out for Calius, but he didn’t reply…and instead, someone stepped out of the shadows. The head knight of the castle, pink form illuminated by the fire and a knowing smile on his face. The girl, not previously aware that he was in the room, explained the door had been locked, and the man nodded, before approaching her, almost pinning her against the door. She asked if he was another guest, the knight being confused before remembering the letter, and took it from her hand, throwing it into the fire. He smirked, explaining the true purpose of her visit was for him to be given a bride as a reward for his hard work, the knight asking her to marry him and towering above her. Instantly, the girl realized she was in terrible, terrible danger, beginning to pound on the door and yell for help as he approached. When nobody answered by the first door, she ran to the second, calling out for someone to save her as the knight continued to approach, eventually dragging her away from the door and throwing her down on the floor with his bare strength. Despite this, the girl tried to resist, the knight becoming angry at her pleas and using his dagger to cut open her cheek to subdue her, the girl in shock and then being forced down onto the floor, where chrysanthemums bloomed all over the castle as he had his way.

Eventually, the girl managed to pull herself away, now trying to cover herself due to her dress having been reduced to rags, and desperately pounded on the main door, tears streaming down her face and trying to evade the knight even as he tried to approach her again. Then, the door slammed open, the King staring at them both. Prisoner and knight were both judged, the knight being told to stay back, to his complete frustration and fury, and the prisoner being offered a single chance to escape the binding shackles of a violating marriage. Handed a book and quill, Calius bluntly told her to get out of his sight, the girl grabbing one of the swords from the wall to defend herself and throwing her cloak over her rags, untying it and letting it flow loose to cover herself as best as she could. Throwing the hood over her tear-stained, exhausted face, the prisoner ran, trying to go to the one safe place she still had left. That was, until she heard the rapid grunts of the knight as he gave chase, the girl managing to reach her home but knowing she would put her family in danger just with her presence. Though her younger brother called down from the window, heartbroken cries begging her to stay, that he couldn’t bear for her to leave, she tearfully ran off, hiding amongst the trees until the knight finally went back to the castle, leaving a tearful, broken prisoner with no semblance of innocence left. She had been taken, destroyed and broken, but the promise of collecting a hundred tales was her only hope. And it was with that hope she began her quest, forgetting the names she had labelled herself with, such as an unmarried wretch, a witch or a wasted daughter, and took up her sword and quill, becoming someone else. She had to sheath the aspirations of her family now in favour of her task, the one which could save her life, and return her long lost freedom. Freedom to marry, to choose her own life, and to be free of this burden. For now, though, she had to evade the names, the harassment. And thus, she gave herself a new name. Nomad, magician, child of literature. Or, as she henceforth called herself throughout everything… the Traveler.’

The Traveler finished writing her tale, illustrating herself as she had once been. She stared down at the page. No longer was she that broken, violated child who had been stolen in the night, and yet no longer was she the steadfast, stoic wanderer who collected a hundred tales. No…throughout her adventures, she’d stuck to her values, and she’d stayed strong, the strength of her own mind and heart being the thing to pull her through it all. A light suddenly began in her chest, the book disappearing from her hands, and the girl’s outfit changed in a bright flash. No longer was she wearing cyan rags and a black cloak, but now she wore a beautiful cyan outfit, a cloak knotted with a rose knot around her, trailing behind her but leaving her front open. She stared down at herself in wonder. Her sleeves were adorned with embroidery of pink and yellow vines, and no longer was she wearing a dress, but now a beautiful shirt and trousers with vines trailing up and down. She pulled her cloak around, and noticed an intricate swirl of designs along the back, forming a rose. Yes, she was a rose. And as the lights of dawn appeared in the sky, a small shoot appeared in the ground, the forest gently entwining a pink rose for her hair. It had seen just how long and how much she suffered, and was proud. As her hourglass became unstuck, and Calius sighed when the book appeared before him, one thing was clear. She was free. And now, she needed a new name. Survivor. Gatherer. Lover. Or as she would call herself…the Storykeeper. And though she knew not how her tale ultimately ended, as she walked away through the forest she understood the simple truth. Life is but an ongoing story, one we humans cannot read, but fate is not yet written in ink. Every human must choose their own path and live for themselves, for that is all life really is. A story we write.

The End.