The Rose and the Beast: Fairy Tales Retold by Francesca Lia Block

Author:Francesca Lia Block [Block, Francesca Lia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780064407458
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2001-08-07T07:00:00+00:00

ROSE

When Rose White and Rose Red are little, they tell each other, We will never need anyone else ever, we are going to do everything together. It doesn’t matter if we never find anyone else. We are complete.

Rose White is smaller and thinner and her hair is like morning sunlight; it breaks easily. Rose Red is faster and stronger and her hair is like raging sunset and could be used

to hang jewels around someone’s neck. Rose White is quiet and Rose Red talks fast, she is always coming up with ideas—they will go ride the rapids, climb down to the bottom of the canyons, travel to far-off lands where babies wear nothing but flowers and their feet can never touch the floor. Rose Red’s voice evokes volcanoes, salt spray, cool tunnels of air, hot plains, redolence, blossoms. Rose White listens and smiles. Yes—worlds, waters, rocks, stars, color so much color. She can see it all when Rose Red speaks. She can see herself balanced precariously on steep precipices or swimming through

churning waters—with Rose Red.

Rose Red gives Rose White courage and Rose White gives Rose Red peace. Rose White brushes out the fiery tangle of Rose Red’s hair, helps her pick out her dresses, makes her sit down to eat her meals. Rose White makes pumkin soup, salads of melon and mints and edible flowers. She makes dresses out of silk scarves. When Rose Red’s heart quickens and her skin flushes like her hair, Rose White listens to her until she is quiet, tells her she is right—the world is a strange mad place, it isn’t Rose Red who is mad. Rose Red’s world is where she wants to live.

When Rose White gets too quiet, too cold, too deep within herself, afraid to speak, afraid to be seen, Rose Red puts a hat on her head, takes her hand, and brings her out where it is warm and bright. Even though they have not traveled far, with Rose Red it is always an adventure. She knows places to go where you can dance to live drums, eat spicy foods with your hands, buy magic talismans.

One day Rose Red takes Rose White farther away than they have been before. They are in the woods gathering berries—which they eat till their hands and tongues are purple— burying their faces in the pine needles, practicing bird calls, chasing butterflies. They climb trees and bathe in a stream and adorn themselves with moss and vines and wildflowers. They lose track of time. Rose Red does because she wants time to be lost and Rose White does because she trusts Rose Red and so forgets to worry. But then it is suddenly night and the trees become hovering specters and the wind is lost ghosts and the owls are mournful phantoms. Rose White is afraid and Rose Red is becoming afraid, not of the night but because she is not sure she can console Rose White this time, or regain

her trust. We’ll be all right, she says.

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