Red roses hid their ruffled heads between the leaves. Catching sight of the shy flowers, she threaded her age-spotted hand through the tangle. Her questing index finger brushed a velvet petal as a thorn pricked her thumb. Pain and blood, as red as the rose, welled up. As she withdrew her shaking hand to examine the wound, the greenway swirled around her, and she swayed.
Closing her eyes, she fought the dizzy spell. Perhaps leaving her medication at home had been a bad idea but it was too late now for regret. She leaned into the hedge avoiding the thorns and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding. It would stop in a moment.
Petals brushed against her knuckles, her face and the bits uncovered by her rags. Opening her eyes, she stared at her hand resting against the blood red rose. The age spots were gone, replaced by smooth skin unblemished by life, and unmarked by time. The wound had healed too leaving a thin red line behind, but it too faded away before her eyes.
Righting herself, she ran smooth fingers over an ageless face no longer wrinkled. She picked at the clip confining her hair and it tumbled down in a cascade of brown, not the white she’d pulled back hours before.
Was this all a beautiful hallucination? Or had she pricked her finger on a rose and regained her lost youth? Sidling over to a parked car, she glanced at her reflection in the side mirror. She gasped at the young woman staring back at her.
Dawn burned in the east, raising its brand between two brick buildings. And she headed into it, striding into a future she’d never expected to have.
I love this idea. Her pricking herself in a rise to gain her youth. But like all “fountain of youth” type tales, I wonder the cost. Is she young forever? That could be good and bad? Or does the rose’s prick only last a short while? That could be dangerous too. Great tale Melinda π
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Thank you, you raise a lot of intriguing questions. I’m going to have to write some more to see what happens
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Sounds good to me π
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βΊ
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What a beauty!
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Thank you!
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I agree with them. This is one whole story is a few words dear Mel! β€
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Thank you π I’m learning the art of micro stories
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you surely do it flawlessly, Mel! π
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I’m still learning. I participated in a competition no prizes just voting and didn’t rate a single vote. So I have lots to learn about micro fiction. Though I can’t be certain many respondents actually read my piece. So it may have been a popularity contest
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Oh yes. Maybe it’s a popularity contest. Don’t doubt your pieces. They are all great.
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Thank you π
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you’re always welcome because my honesty is always free. π
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Thank you π
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always welcome my friend!
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π
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Whoa. There’s a lot of story packed into so few words. I wonder what she’s going to do with her life now that she’s, in a way, reliving it?
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I feel as though I read a whole book with your micro-story.
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Thank you βΊ I’ve done my job then
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Wow! So much said in such few words. Hugs β€οΈ
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Thank you
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Hugs. β€οΈ
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π
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