White Rose | Teen Ink

White Rose

September 11, 2014
By Gsword GOLD, Chapel Hill, North Carolina
Gsword GOLD, Chapel Hill, North Carolina
18 articles 1 photo 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"In order to be smart you can't be too smart."


  White Rose  

by:

Grace Sword

Heather Smith

 

I can finally smell the summer breeze after so many long years of smoke and death. The blood in the river has finally washed away and is clear once again. It has been awhile since the sun has touched my face, but I still wasn’t satisfied. Even though it is the brightest spring I’ve seen in a long time, I still feel a cold breeze. When I go into the garden, I hear the faintest of words repeating, “White roses, white roses” Although when I look around, no one is there, except for the horses in the barn. If I told my father of this, he’d think I’m crazy...I’m certain I’m not.

That morning, I could tell by the ever so small drops on the window that it had rained. I was a little sad about it, knowing that Mother Nature has already done my gardening chores. I had no choice but to mope around. I went to the study to read a book and it was silent. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Nothing exciting was happening. A bored girl I was. Then, I heard a rustle coming from in the barn.

Could it be the horses? No, horses would be louder. The sound was small but not as small as a rat. I tried to ignore it, but again and again the sound was made. I was getting annoyed. I had to find out what it was.

I got up with a huff, knowing my life was utterly boring right now. I laid my book down, as if it was all I had. I went to the barn with a slow walk. I heard the noise again. I finally arrived to the barn, and silently opened the door not knowing what to expect. For all I know, it could be a cat or a stray dog, but what I found was more shocking.

It was a boy at the most seventeen or eighteen. He was wearing the uniform of blue and gray, and a small hat. He was awfully pale and smelt as if he hadn’t showered for days! He had a scared face but spoke softly, “Where am I? Why am I here?” It looked as if he were crying. He repeated the question. I just stood there in shock. I replied with the nicest respond I could. “I don’t know why the heck are you in my barn!” I didn’t mean to yell, but I didn’t know how else to respond. “I’m sorry. I’m just. I don’t know how to deal with this.” That is when I noticed how dirty he was. I grabbed his arm, and literally a puff of dust came off his wool jacket.

“Come inside. You are freezing cold and dirty. You may take a bath if you wish.” I hoped he would say yes, because I felt bad for earlier. He simply nodded. It was only a moment later when we finally made to the quietness of the house. We went to the study, and I motioned him a seat. He took it but he just sat there and shook. It was sad and all I did was stare. The awkwardness of the silence bothered me. I tried so hard to make conversation, but he just sat there as if he were dead. I asked him why he was in my barn but all he said was, “Why? Why? Why am I still here?”

I finally got the gumption to ask him what “here” meant. He replied, “Isn’t it obvious. Earth of course.” What a weird response. That’s when father walked in.

“Hello father, this is my friend-” I gestured to the young man from the barn, but he was gone. “Um nevermind.” My dad made a snarky comment saying that I might be going crazy because I still have imaginary friends. He was not imaginary.

I searched the whole house, when I found him in my room looking at a photo of my mom. I stood in the doorway and quietly. “Is this your mother?” I nodded with a tear in my eye. “She is beautiful. She looks like you. What happened to her?”

“She got sick and died when I was two. She’s buried not far from here.”

That is when he lit up. I swear for a second he had life in his skin, but it was a quick second for it went away. He grabbed me and stated, “I need to find my body. That is my ticket out of here.” I was a little scared. I asked, “What do you mean by body?” He ignored my question. “My body shouldn’t have been dumped that far from here.” That is when it hit me. He was a ghost. Wait. I can see ghost. I was in utter shock. I looked at myself in awe. That explains the coldness. I replied quickly, “Probably the one my mom is buried at. The one near the creek.”

“Of course, the creek where I was shot; I remember going there and feeling all sorts of peace. The flowers were in bloom, the sun was setting, there was the big cherry blossom tree with budding flowers...I remember thinking that this was what it’s gonna look like, after the war. Peacefulness. No blood, no fear, no death.”

We quickly went to the creek. People were staring at me because I was talking to him on the way, which means to them I was talking to myself. When we arrived at the river, I felt an unbearable weight of sadness fall upon me. “Under the tree.” He whispered softly, “He shot me under the tree.”

Creeping my way toward the tree; I braced myself for what I may find.

“Y-You’re not here.” I stammered. There was an indention on the flower bed near the tree that lead all the way down to the river. Following the path, I quickly come across what we’ve been looking for, tangled in a bush of roses.

“Kurt, you’re name is Kurt?” I questioned, tears in my eyes.

“Kurtis McDaniels, first and only son of James McDaniels.”  

“Well Kurtis,” I sniffled, “I’m Magdalena Clementine, only daughter of Turner Clementine. Let’s go put you to rest.”  I run back to town as fast as I can and get the sheriff to tell him about the body I found.

 

...The funeral was held on a Sunday, you could here the sniffles and cries of those grieving the loss of their fellow soldier, friend, and son. As the casket was covered with dirt, shovel full after shovel full, the cold vibe that was plagued me since I saw Kurt, vanished. Placing a single white rose atop his grave I say a bittersweet goodbye to the ghost I just helped. I felt a brush of wind coming from behind me, turning around I come face to face with Kurt, the energy around him was warm and angelic.

“Hello, my soldier.” I smiled gently at him. Kurt moved till he was standing right in front of me, he bent down slowly as my eyes fluttered closed. “Thank you Maggie,” he whispered. I felt a brush of warmth on my lips, when I opened my eyes again Kurt was gone. Even with the tears flowing down my cheeks, I look up to the orange sky and smile.



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