Creative Writing class semester project (ongoing)
Fall 1999
Rose King-Harris

Deep red roses burst open, suffusing the room with their color tinting it all like the stained glass eclipsed by their intensity. Fallen rose petals licking the table like eager flames, spilling across it like blood spilled into the sink earlier. Roses open gaping like hungry lips, unfurling, Mother Nature's vulvic jokes. In the center of the floral forest, a small white card, Marc's shy scrawl, and "Sorry." Beneath it, after much thought, had been inscribed a small heart.

on with the story, back to the creative writings index or see rose's page.