Part 1

A candle light is the only thing illuminating a dark dusty wine cellar. Dust particles slowly float through the dull ray of candle light. The air is hot and humid, and it smells of rain, old musky pinewood, and gun powder. Rain is pounding on the roof of the old manor.

            I am lying on my back, on the old pinewood floor. I can feel that I am lying in a warm pool of liquid as my body becomes colder and colder. My mouth is filling up with warm, iron tasting liquid. My body seems to be getting heavier and heavier. I wipe my mouth and look up at my hand.

            Lightning flashes, lighting up the wine cellar for a brief moment. My hand was covered in blood. Not only that, but I was lying in a growing pool of crimson blood. Not just any blood, my own blood. I am bleeding out on this old pinewood.

            The first thought that entered my mind was that of the crimson red blood. It was the color of Rose’s hair. My beautiful Rose’s hair. She had long beautiful red hair that flowed every time she turned her head.

            My second thought was that, she did this to me. Because of her, I am lying here, bleeding out on this old pinewood floor, in our wine cellar. But, that isn’t the worst thing about this situation. This is far more insignificant. My beautiful Rose had died hours before she did this to me. I know it. I saw her lifeless body in her bed. I wept on her corpse when I found her lying in her bed, no longer alive. So, why did she do this to me? I’ve done everything for her, I loved her, I bought her everything she wanted, I done everything I could to save her from her illness. So why would she do this to me? What have I done wrong?

            My body is really cold now, it has grown very numb. The only thing I can really feel is the warmth of my pooling blood, my lungs and mouth filling up with blood, and regret that I must have failed on being a good fiancé to Rose.

            My eyesight is now fading; everything is getting darker and darker. I am truly dying. And all I can think about is that my crimson blood is the color of her hair, my lovely Rose’s hair. Oh god, why does my blood remind me of her hair. My dying Rose, well my dead Rose. At least, now I can hope to be with her in the afterlife.

            As I lie here dying, I think about the events that led up to this. How my dying Rose died, and how she led me to this moment.

 

A Dying Rose

Reviews

[Aurafiex]

I saw your email from the United Writer's Group thing, and you were asking for some feedback, so here goes!

Firstly, don't tell things to the reader, such as the rain. Write it in a way where the character realises that its raining as they awake, like they hear the sound of rain outside, rather than outright stating that its raining.

And thats the main issue really. You tend to just outright state things.

Format wise, I recommend a larger font (size 12), as well as leaving one full space in between paragraphs. Makes it easier to read.

[Tsubaki Kuro]

Thanks a bunch. I've been thinking the same thing but didn't know if anyone thought the same thing. I'll fix it up as soon as possible. Thanks for your feedback