The Parable of the Wilting Rose
There once was a little town called Forest Haven. It was small enough to not be troubled by tourists and such but large enough to have its own newspaper that only served to tell of the latest gossip. One rainy evening when all of Forest Haven's occupants were at the local church celebrating the last day of harvest, a young girl staggered in through the front doors. Heavily pregnant and very young, the girl had never been seen before. Quickly the local midwives took the young girl to the back room of the church where she proceeded to have the town's first and only orphan; for she died a few moments after naming the little girl Rose.
The townspeople, not knowing what to do with the little girl, held a town meeting in which they discussed the prospect of who should take care of her.
"Should we call the city to take her to a proper orphanage?" proposed one of the elders to the shock and horror of all at the idea of some person from outside the forest to come into their little town.
"I shall take the child." said a voice from the back of the room. It was the oldest woman in the town known to all as Madame Aggettivo. She was mysterious to all for she lived in a little house at the very outskirts of the town in an old house where she made her healing potions and salves from herbs she found out in her garden. The people present began to whisper in amazement the woman's volunteer. The winced at the idea of such a lovely child (for in the short span of a week the girl had indeed grown lovely. With long eyelashes and bright eyes and dark red hair she was destined to be a beauty) going to live with the old woman in that stuffy and dreary house. But not daring to voice their protests they agreed.
Rose did grow and with her growth she grew more and more beautiful with each passing year and by the time she was fifteen she was the most beautiful girl in the whole village. Rose was everyone's favorite with her smile and laugh she could make even the most stubborn of people smile, but one day her beloved Madame Aggettivo died. Then suddenly the lovely girl they everyone had grown to love began to fade. Rose no longer smiled and reduced from wearing bright colors to black, she fell ill.
All of the doctors of Forest Haven were baffled. Nothing was wrong with Rose but still she seemed to be dieing. Well-wishers of all ages came to her bedside in hopes of cheering their beloved Rose. Some would bring her flowers of her namesake, others would sing and tell her stories, but nothing seemed to work. The beloved flower of Forest Haven still seemed to wilt. Until finally one night a young man who claimed to be a doctor came to the girl's bed side. Rose looked up at the man as he helped her out of her bed and half carried her to the grave of her guardian.
"Why have you taken me here?" she whispered weakly as he helped her sit next to the grave so she could she the shining marble tombstone where the moon reflected on the epitaph. "Read it." He answered. Rose obeyed as she felt her heart break as she read the following words: "Beloved mother. May her darling Rose always blossom from her teachings."
"Look at the rose that was planted. It's wilting." The man said as Rose sobbed. She looked at him in bewilderment did he not know this was the reason she was dieing? Because Madame was dead? "You are wilting too. Don't you realize the sacrifice that was made? She gave her life for you and you are wasting it. You were supposed to die so many times but she begged the death angel to give you just one more year, but there was a price. It was taken from her. Now you are wasting her gift."
Rose turned her lovely tearstained face and looked at the man in amazement. She suddenly felt ashamed and said softly, "I will not waste her gift any longer." She looked at the rose on the grave that seemed to glisten in the nighttime dew as it bloomed. Rose smiled as she kissed the blossom softly as she thought of all the times she had spent with Madame Aggettivo. Never shall she let herself wilt again and when she felt herself getting sad she would just think about the rose on the grave. About the rose that was wilting and then was watered by her tears and made whole. Like the gift her mother had given her to keep her from wilting. And Rose did all these things.
this is something i wrote for skool!
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