(Not the third part to the story which I have already started)


In her mind’s eye she held the dying the rose as its deep rich petals fell.

Lingeringly she gently touched each fallen petal, each one symbolic of part of what they had been. Part of what had been ‘them’.

She had previously only been aware of the beauty of the whole. But now as she looked at the disintegrating flower she saw clearly what each part. How precious each was, how complete in itself, how unique and wonderful.

As each petal fell and she traced its shape and marveled at its delicacy and her heart was ripped apart again. Her tears of anguish soaking the embracing pillow.

Just the hard core at the end of the stem remained as the last petal fell. The beauty of rose gone, even that last petal loosing its gentle strength as it slipped into decay.

She howled into the pillow, crying out from depths she did not know were there, until her tears ran dry. She lay exhausted, seeing only the darkness where he was not, unable to think beyond that moment.

“I can fill that hole, if you will let me.” In the stillness of the room she heard her Master’s voice.

“I want to be all those things for you, and so much more, but you have to leave those petals there, let them be, only then can you enjoy what I have to offer you.”

His voice so still, so powerful, so full of love held her soul in perfect peace. She felt His arms hold her, remind her what could be hers. Then He stepped back. The choice was hers.

Behind her, her Master stood waiting; before her that last fallen petal of the flower she had loved so much. Could she leave that to its natural decay and turn to receive the unknown of what he offered. With all her heart she yearned to stay and bury the rose, to cloak herself in black and kneel by the side of the grave and mourn.

Behind her, her Master stood silently a tear in his eye as he awaited her decision.

She knew His terms. He had given everything to be able to have her for His. He was hers for the asking. She struggled to find the strength to turn from last fallen petal, to the strength to turn and kneel at His feet and accept His leash.

She knew that once she was there He would care for her every need, it would not be an easy life with Him, it would be an unknown and probably dangerous one, but one in which He promised her victory. If she would kneel. That bit she had do in by herself, in her own strength.

Behind her, her Master sadly bowed his head, rejected by the girl He had given His life for.

In her weakness she waited too, waited until she was ready to accept the inevitable.

“Let the dead bury their dead.”

Empty and broken she turned to crawl to her Master.