as told by Nightmare-of-Roses
A rose is a beautiful flower, is it not? Its petals soft like the newborn's coat on your nose. Its fragrance as pleasant as the sun's light peeking through the mangrove leaves? But why, one may ask, would this wondrous blossom be born with thorns? Such that no kimeti may ever pluck it without great care? Without cutting one's lip? Or trampling it with a hoof? I will tell you why, for I know its tale well. It begins like this...
An aging buck sat on a mangrove root at sunset and stared into the Swamp's waters. He sighed, filled with loneliness, his heart empty and broken. No doe would have him. Not even for a fleeting moment. You see, he wasn't a pleasant sight. He was as ugly as a festering wound. But he had the heart of a hopeless romantic, and the determination to match. But no matter what he tried, he could not win the heart of another, and so he sat alone on the mangrove root, not even daring to cry.
This was when something caught his eye beside him. A seed, a lone seed. He saw himself in the seed, for it was by itself, unable to find soil or water. Gently, with his teeth, he grasped the seed and took it to a mound of soil beside the swampwater. He planted the seed with loving care, his tears watered it and he watched it every day, tenderly. He sang to it and to the swamp around him, begging Matope to grow a flower that would win him a lover.
One day, he found his work to be successful, a sprout had emerged from the topsoil, green and full of life. He felt his heart lighten, had Matope heard his call? Every day was filled with new hope that he would grow a magnificent flower and give it to a pretty doe. This flower would be irresistible, and she would immediately fall in love with him, without so much as a hesitation at how hideous he was.
Every day the sprout grew, forming a substantial stem, producing leaves, until finally a bulb was found. He gasped with utter joy, his plan coming to fruition. He would no longer be lonely in this cruel world...
At last, the flower bloomed. It started as a bud, dark red as the crimson blood the flows within his veins. Its petals spiraled out from its core, spreading as it reached the edges, ruffling at the tips. He sniffed at it, nuzzled it, but dared not pluck it yet. One more day, he said, one more and I will take it to find a doe.
When he awoke the next morning, he went immediately to check on his flower. To his utter surprise, a doe was beside it, sniffing it gently with a sort of amazement in her eyes. He stood equally amazed, even when she looked up at the sound of his approach.
"This flower.." she spoke, "..what is its name?"
"I..uh..a..Rose" he replied, baffled. Rose sounded well in his head, for it rose from his own sadness to bring him happiness. And here she was.
"Will you not give it to me?" she asked, her crimson hair falling off her shoulder, its color matching his rose
"Only..if you will love me" he told her. Now was the moment of truth, would this work?
She smiled, her eyes closing in calm assurance as she nodded to herself, "If it means I shall have this rose, then so it shall be. I will love you."
Although he knew she only wanted the rose, the buck reared in sheer happiness. Tears of joy escaped his eyes. Without further hesitation, he nuzzled his love. As the days came and passed, they lived their lives together, side by side, in peace and happiness.
But everything was not as it should be. The doe was unhappy. Even though the buck promised her the rose, she could not take it. No matter how hard she pulled, it would not loosen from the soil it grew from. And she did not want to pester her love for it. He said she would have it, but would not give it to her. Thoughts of betrayal crossed her mind. Was he tricking her? Was she trapped? Forced to love him without his fulfillment of his promise? She grew restless as time passed. He had still not given her the rose. She decided she would force him. It was rightfully hers, was it not? As these thoughts poisoned her mind, nubs could be seen on the stem of the rose, though neither noticed them.
That night, she awoke silently, and turned to her so-called mate. Bitter with distrust, she tried to rip the rose from the ground one last time. The rose grew rapidly, twisting around her entire length. She screeched and struggled in despair, trying to get loose. The buck woke with a start, and gasped at what he saw. The doe's white coat was now stained with blood, thorns had grown on the rose's stem and they cut into her flesh as she struggled. She cried in pain. Unsure of what to do, the buck stepped in place before approaching her in an effort to release her.
"Set me free, set me free!" she shrieked, every desperate move she made caused the vines to tighten, the deepest in her legs. Somewhere in his mind, he thought if I let her have the rose, she will leave me.
"Just...stop struggling, you'll make it worse!" he cried, unable to bear the sight of her pain.
She rolled swiftly to face him, panting with rage. "You trapped me! You forced me to love you. All I wanted was the rose, for it is my life. You may have created me, but I don't need you to survive. All i need is the rose. Give it to me! GIVE ME MY ROSE!" she hissed at him.
Unable to speak at that point, the buck bit loose the end of the rose, and the doe rolled to her feet, trampling the length of the stem that wrapped around her body, only the vines that cut into her legs remained, and melted into her coat. Her blood eternally stained her coat. She picked up the blossom in her mouth, the only part she did not destroy, gave one last hateful look at the buck who denyed her what she desired, and bolted into the swamp.
Alone once more, the buck died soon after. But no one is sure what has happened to the doe...
But that is why the rose grows with thorns. To remind the foolish not to let their guard down. Not to be deceived by others. For even the most beautiful flower can harm you.
