Waking Rose: A Fairy Tale Retold by Doman Regina

Author:Doman, Regina [Doman, Regina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chesterton Press
Published: 2011-10-20T04:00:00+00:00

Hers

Something had happened. When Rose roused herself from her mental slumber, she found that she could no longer hear. Frantically, she searched around for the beginnings of how to hear, but the passageways were blocked to her, as though walls had come down in the middle of the night, closing her off. She regained a hold on her mouth, and attempted to feel, at least with the tip of her tongue, but there was a curious fuzzy feeling there, as though her tongue had turned to cotton.

Perhaps she needed water? She had imagined that they were giving her water, in the hospital. A chilling thought came over her. How long had she been asleep? Had they decided to give up feeding and hydrating her? She knew that people in comas had been allowed to starve to death before, and now the prospect was alarmingly close.

Don’t imagine thirst, she told herself fiercely, or it will become unbearable. Imagining that one was starving to death, or dying of thirst, would become a real torture in this mental prison.

But of course, once the thought had occurred to her, it was difficult to push it out of her mind. She battled it for some time, but in the end, she relinquished hold of her tongue and mouth and resolutely shut herself off in order to regain her sense of proportion.

Whatever proportion it was possible to have, she thought ironically, when you’re shut off from your own body.

Once again she felt at the walls that had blocked off her hearing, and tried to find a crack back through to the physical world. The thought of her mother, Blanche, Bear, and Fish standing around her, talking to her, without being able to hear them, was unbearable. She fought to keep herself from breaking down into anguish.

Eventually, she drifted into random thoughts once more, and realized she was getting weary. She let herself fall into the world of dreams where her prison seemed to dissolve.

In her dream, she was sitting in a rose garden, wearing a long blue dress with gold patterns worked all through it, vines and flowers and birds. And she leaned her hand languidly on the arms of the wooden chair, rubbing her fingers on a rose petal that had fallen into her open palm. She could smell its crushed scent, mingled with the spring air, the damp earth, and the roses blooming in the gentle breeze. She could feel sunlight on her hands and knees, and the kiss of the wind on her face as she leaned back in a wooden throne that was set beneath a rose tree. The song of birds echoed in the skies above. Above her she could see the branches swaying, heavy with blooms. She thought to herself, he’s coming. I know he’s coming. And felt a skip in her heart.

Perhaps she should rouse herself and make a garland of fresh roses to wear. But these roses had thorns, and perhaps that would be a crown that would be too difficult to wear.

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