The Life of a RoseA Story by selkietales
A rose's life
The Life of a Rose
I’m stretching, out and out and out, away from the pull. I fight, I know my first purpose is to grow strong, to extend small feeding tendrils of capillary action towards the pull, to push the rest of me away from it. I’ve known this; I feel it in the flow of nutrients inside me, in the pressing around me which cradles me firmly.
I also know that as I break through the pressing around me, I can feel myself bending, swaying slightly as a caress smoothly flows around my form. I feel as though I could grow up and up forever, spreading myself wider and wider until I covered and spread my tendrils through everything, knowing everything. I continue to bring moisture and nutrients to myself from the pressing around my tendrils, and I push out small buds that will grow to absorb the warmth coming from above, radiating through my form and giving strength.
The warmth slowly fades, before disappearing altogether. I wonder if it will come back. I don’t even know what it was. Was it something that can grow in a way I cannot? Did it go out of existence as suddenly I came into existence? Will this happen to me; are existences so fragile they just disappear? I can feel myself physically react. My warmth absorbing flat growths droop slightly. The water and nutrients flowing into me slow. I no longer want to continue growing or feeling what’s around me. What is it worth it to know everything when everything will cease? It does no good to know of the warmth, the growth it brings when it will be gone and never return a moment later. I sleep, shut myself down, block out the constant flow around me.
I cannot help but notice, though, when the pressing moves slightly. It grows stronger and I wonder what is happening, wishing I had some other way of knowing what was going on. The movement stops and my form is bent. On one side it stretches, taut and close to tearing while on the other side it folds over itself and presses inward. The water and nutrients stop flowing.
Suddenly, release. The pressure is gone and my form straightens to its proper place. My peace did not last, however, since a mass of small pinpricks fell upon me, gathered together and flowed towards the pressing like the space around me flowed in every other direction. Were they similar? They felt much different when they first come in contact with me, though, so I decided they were separate.
The motions in the pressing started again, as strong as they had ended, before fading away.
I felt a flux in the water I drew into me. It had increased. Was it due to the things that fell on me before? Were they water?
Over time, slow enough that I didn’t realize it until it draped over me as strongly as I had first felt it, the warmth returned. I felt growth coursing through me and I pushed myself farther than I had the last time the warmth had covered me. It could rescind its presence at any time.
The warmth stayed, though, for seemingly even more time than it had when I last felt it before fading into the cold. I wondered if warmth was its purpose or if maybe it switched between warmth and cold. I wondered if it knew me even though all I knew about it was that it provides the strengthening warmth. I wished that my dream of growing and growing and thus finding out everything would truly happen.
My growth so far hadn’t allowed me knowledge, though, so I continued to grow and try and feel. I felt the warmth leave and return, repeating this way over and over again, as did the ground vibrations growing, water flowing over me into the pressing, and the vibrations lessoning. I determined the warmth did not know me, or if it did I was of no interest. It just continued to do as I do: keep on going. The vibrations I anticipated, like the warmth, for it provided strength in the form of water.
I felt compelled to form a new type of growth now that my tendrils were firm in the pressing. I wasn’t sure what it was, just that it was necessary. I nurtured it, giving up most of my nutrients to it, until the warmth absorbers wrapping it peeled away. An odd, different type of warmth absorber stretched out, followed by another and another. They continued to stretch out and out, uncovering the center I felt was most important. Small weights landed in the center and left and I wondered what they were. Were they there to serve my purpose like the warmth and vibrations seemed to be?
I wouldn’t find out since one day the vibrations grew, water flowed over me, and then the vibrations didn’t start again. Instead, I could no longer feel one of my growths, the one connecting me to the strange, new warmth absorber I had been giving water and nutrients. The warmth absorber I felt was more important than any other part of me.
The growth up until the place the feeling disappeared could no longer hold its water. It disappeared much faster in the warmth. The vibrations in the pressing faded and I felt that if the water hadn’t been delivered before the feeling to the warmth absorber left then all of my water would disappear through that one point.
I have never been without water. If I was to run out would I disappear like I thought the warmth had when it first disappeared?
I want to keep growing. I want to make more of those strange warmth absorbers and keep them through fruition. I want to know everything that has happened around me. Why does the warmth grow and fade? Why do the vibrations follow a similar pattern? Why do I even feel compelled to grow the strange warmth absorbers? I had no answer to any of these. The answer I improvised was to continue to grow.
I grew and grew and the warmth grew and faded and grew again, repeatedly, yet none of my strange warmth absorbers stayed. They all disappeared and I felt that this not knowing what was happening was too much.
I stopped growing the strange warmth absorbers.
After the warmth grew and faded many, many times the vibrations that seemed to bring water stopped coming. I soon ran out of water to absorb. Would I disappear?
I could no longer grow.
I could no longer feel.
I could no longer think.
I disappeared back into the pressing.
© 2012 selkietales
Added on May 15, 2012
Last Updated on May 18, 2012
AboutHi I'm Vivian Wallace and I'm 17 :) My friend Randi and I plan on becoming published authors, so we are working on our skills and just having fun by writing a silly super hero story together (S.H.O.V... more..