The Last Rose
Adriana Gonzalez Sanchez
It was my eighteenth birthday when my papa gave me a present beyond anything I could ever imagine — it was glorious. It was a locket — my mother’s locket. Oh, when he fastened it around my neck, I felt invincible. I shall never forget the pride I felt to be part of this family.
Soon after, I discovered there was hope that the Earth’s colours might one day return, held within this very locket. Inside it, I found the seed of a rose — and that is why I am travelling with my papa to the only place on Earth where soil remains.
I have travelled for days. I have crossed the remains of the Earth — sand and more sand. I do not understand why my father told me I must always remember: “You must let the roses thrive on Earth, at any cost.”
I asked him why. He only said, ‘Just promise me, child, you shall do so.’
Three hours later, I can see glorious botanical gardens. There are no plants inside it, but soon it will flourish – emptiness is only the beginning.
It is ever so beautiful — the fine golden pillars, the deep brown soil, the air here so impossibly clean. I can hardly believe this once existed everywhere on Earth. I cannot hold my excitement any longer, so I blurt out, ‘Papa, tell me this isn’t real — oh, I have never seen anything like this! Papa, I wish I had been alive when the world was full of this!’
‘Oh, my child, I wish you had been too. I have only a vivid memory of it, but oh, what a blessing it was to be there. Sadly, few of us were grateful for it. Yet I see now how very lucky I am to carry even a single vivid memory. Oh, indeed, I am.’”
‘Should we put the seed inside?’ I ask.
‘May I do it?’ Papa asks. ‘I just… really want to. I have this feeling,’ my papa says. I see him begin to fidget as he turns his back to me.
I smile. ‘Of course, papa.’
He turns around and tickles me, and I giggle like a little child.
‘Okay, Helen, could you please step back?’ he says, his tone suddenly serious.
‘Yes, Papa.’
When I am quite far away, he calls out to me, ‘One must die for the rose to thrive.’
My heart stumbles. ‘Papa? Who must die?’ I cry, running toward him.
‘Child… your destiny is too great.’
He presses the seed into the soil — and collapses.
My legs give way beneath me. I fall to his side and take his cold hand in mine. I beg him to wake up, over and over, telling him this must be a dream — a terrible dream.
But nothing happens.
A scream tears from my chest.
‘I wanted to be with you when the world was beautiful! Now, whenever my eyes behold a rose again, all I will see is you… and pain.’