What Dreams May Become

Petals fall around her and she follows their progress until they hit the floor. What a wonderful metaphor for life, she thought, us being but roses that must wither and join the earth or..., she snatched up one of the delicate flowers and crushed it in her hand, “be crushed like nothing."
She opened her hand and stared as the blood began to flow from where the thorns had cut her, "but they get their revenge, now don't they. Do we get revenge?" She looked up at the boy who was seated on the grass beside her. He continued to stare at her inquisitively without saying a word. She looked back at her blood-stained palm then wiped the blood unto her red dress; she looked up at the boy again and took his hands in her own.
"Do you think we get revenge?" she asked him searchingly; a desperate look coming to her face.
"Usually, in one form or another." he answered casually and watched as she visibly relaxed and released his hands.
"Hmmm... I guess you're right though I don't know whether or not to be pleased about it." she paused, "Do you think Louis..."
"I dunno. Has he?"
"He probably has in one way or another. I just haven't figured out how yet."
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He ran; ran as though his very life depended on it. The roses, he thought to himself, the roses! They surrounded him on all sides; he couldn't escape.
"The Roses!" he screamed, turning in every direction and still he saw them. Bright red, blazing in front of his eyes, forever reminding him of what he ha done; what she had done.
"No more!" he pleaded, "please make it stop. Make it stop..." He froze suddenly. There was a path in front of him. A clear path into the light, away from the roses.
He stumbled towards the light, afraid that it was all an illusion, some trick of the mind. He stumbled, then ran again. He knew it was real; this light, this salvation.

For the first time in almost two weeks he smelled the fresh air, without that sickly sweet smell that people seem so much to love, that he had loved until... best not to think about it he told himself. That won't help you now. What you need is a plan, a way of getting it back, of getting her back. But how? Under the resent circumstances things seemed pretty hopeless and any dreams that he had of retrieving what he had lost seemed like just that, dreams.
He looked about himself, examining his surroundings. He now stood in the middle of an entirely new forest, the rose garden having now disappeared from sight. There was a small stream running not far ahead and he decided on his first course of action; removing all traces of what had just happened to him. He walked up to the stream and bent down, seeing his reflection for the first time in weeks. It came as no small shock that his sand coloured hair had now grown down past his shoulders and that the rest of his face and hands were covered in dirt which he quickly began to remove. It was then that he suddenly realised that over the period of two weeks in which he had been trapped in the roses he had never seen a single stream or even a puddle for that matter. There had been no form of water, not even fruit, which were now plentiful in the trees around him. There was no other form of life except for the roses. "But then..." he thought suddenly, "how am I alive?" He inspected his own hands. "I'm not even dehydrated from lack of water, yet i should be dead." Again he looked back into the water of the stream, the seemingly endless and noiseless stream, and back at the reflection of his face, his green eyes and his hair which was littered with rose petals.
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He careful smoothed down every strand of her long silken black locks, making sure everything was in its place. Its a strange feeling to have, being taken care of in such a way; It always seems nice but with the possibility of becoming sinister at any moment. It's almost like watching a child playing with a china doll and knowing that any second she could loose her temper and through the doll to the floor, shattering the delicate china face, but Gabrielle had no fear of any such thing. she knew that her child would never dear to harm her. Not even if he could.
"That's enough Julian." she said, gently resting her hand on his arm which was in mid-stroke. He rested the brush on the dressing table in front of her then seated himself on the chair across from her.
"Are you sure you want to wear that dress?" he said, waving his hand dramatically to indicate the bright red velvet dress she was wearing.
"Quite sure. I thought I'd explained all of this to you already?"
"You have, but that still doesn't mean that I have to like it." a slight look of jealousy flashed in his eyes. "You attract too much attention to yourself, I don't like it." A smile spread across her face, not quite reaching her eyes.
"Don't worry about anyone else," she reached across the table and held his hand "It is rather cute to see you become jealous and I'm sorry if I can't help myself but you never have to worry about anyone else. I promise." He seemed satisfied with that answer and slowly stood up and walked over to the huge window which over looked the small town of Creoque.
"Still..." he said teasingly, brushing his hair away from his bright green eyes which had suddenly taken on a rather mischievous look, "I'd prefer if you didn't wear that to this damn festival. We could stay here if you insist on wearing it." This time the grin spread straight up to his eyes.
"No, and I’m wearing the dress to the festival so get used to it. however," she got up and wander towards him "we'll see about later, if you start behaving." she returned the mischievous smile. She came right up beside him and pulled back the curtain to look out the window at the little town which was already starting to buzz with life as it's people prepared for the biggest festival of the year. "Come on, we should go now. We'll discuss this when we get back."
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