|The Lives of The Shell, The Violin and The Rose
Author: Cora Vivian PM
This was written for my English project and I wanted to share it to you. Major use of personification. Hope you like it.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 3 - Words: 1,298 - Updated: 11-25-11 - Published: 11-05-11 - id: 2967699
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The Rose © Cora Vivian
She sighed. A beautiful breathy sigh. She had seen the perfect violin walk out of the cupboard and out the house and also had seen the shell brought by her cruel mistress to somewhere she could not think about. The sun was still shining. It was probably midday, for the sun was at it's highest. She smiled. What a beautiful day it was! Her petals were healthy and crimson and soft to touch. She sipped a bit of her water in her vase and stroked her cheek with one of her pretty looking petals. Her thorns were cut, she did not know if she should be glad to take that horrible thing out of her or sad because she felt like she lost a part of herself. She looked outside the window, she had lived in one of the gardens outside. Before her gardener decided she was to live here. In the cold, lifeless cupboard. She longed to live outside, not just out in the garden. But in the wild. Where she could be herself. No one would care If she was pretty, ugly or even deformed. She would be able to live and not only survive. The wind shook her for a bit, she wanted to feel the wind at it's tempest. Out in the wild, she would be able to feel everything that she never heard before. The only sounds she heard were soft breezes, soft drops of the rain. Nothing of the adrenaline pumping of the wild. None of what was life truly about. In this cupboard, she had only seen little things. She wanted to see a prey and predator playing hide-and-seek. The only thing she heard here was the door closing and footsteps walking by.
She wanted to live. But that would mean leaving her precious gardener. Her gardener that visited her everyday to check if she ever needed something. To at least spare time to chat with her. To tell her stories. She would always listen quietly all the while staring at her gardener's handsome face. Her gardener was around twenty years of age. He used to tell her stories of how his parents left him in the orphanage. Of how much he missed his parents. And she always wondered of how it would like loosing a parent. She stared at his face, his jaw was sharp and covered with stubble. His nose was long and pointy. His hair was copper and blonde. You could never really tell. And his eyes, they were kind and brown. She and her gardener wanted what they knew they could almost never have. She, the life in the wild and her gardener, the chance of meeting his parents. She smiled, and lifted her petals out in the sunlight. This was alright. This life was enough.
AN: What do you guys think? Leave a review!