Roses Without Thorns Prologue and Chapter 1

In my opinion, the prologue is okay, but the chapter is the worst thing I have evar written evar. ><

Prologue:

If someone dies, does anyone really care? I doubt they do anymore, that emotion has long been quashed out of their soul. And yet they pretend, they all pretend, trying to fit in with the other pretenders that don’t know they aren’t the only ones.

They conduct large ceremonies, pretending to grieve, and every time they pretend, a twinge of guilt and fear arises in them. They wonder if this is abnormal, and if they are a sociopath. They reassure themselves that this is not so, that they just don’t fully realize that the loved one is gone yet, and it would hit them soon. Then, they will break down sobbing, clutching their knees and feeling a hole in their heart. This, of course, never happens, and they forget that they ever assumed it would. The question that never occurs to them is if everyone else is exactly the same.

Of course, I have considered popping the bubble, but why should I? It would only make them question my mental capacities, while secretly being scared to death of the truth I have just uncovered. I feel no need to uncover any truth, what I have just detailed here is only one of many that I am perfectly fine with letting humanity plunge themselves into the ground denying. After all, humans are obsessed with their denial of anything inherently wrong within them. They will point a finger at anything that they think is wrong, but they would never admit that there is anything wrong with themselves.

Sickly sweet is the rose with no thorns.

Chapter 1:

I walked through the forest, feeling the sun shining down on me just enough to warm me perfectly. I inhaled the scent of the pine trees deeply, noticing a butterfly landing on a branch in front of me. I leaned towards it, hypnotized by the beautiful deep blue pattern.

A loud buzzing sound came from my shirt pocket. I shoved my hand in and attempted to silence my cell, but it was too late. The butterfly, startled, had flown off. I glanced at the ID and flipped open the offending phone.

“Hello, Kristin.”

“Michael! Where are you? I’ve been sitting at our table for almost half an hour!” she scolded.

I winced at her whining tone of voice, and blankly replied that I had forgotten.

“Are you serious? Come on, get over here.”

I grunted and hung up the call.

---

After parking my car, I had to look in a few restaurants before I remembered which one I was reserved at. I hurriedly gave my name to the maître d' and was promptly seated with an very annoyed-looking girl. Kristin was, for the time being, my girlfriend, though she had the approximate intelligence of the small appetizer on the plate in front of her.

“Michael, what were you doing? You always say you’re working, but you don’t have a job anymore, and you don’t do paint or any of that creative stuff people who don’t work are supposed to do, I should be with-”

“You want me to pay or not?” I said, grabbing my napkin and pulling a pen out of my pocket.

Her complaints were thankfully silenced.

The waiter came, and asked us for our order. Kristin ordered the most expensive thing she could find on the menu, probably to spite me. I opted for a salad, while starting to draw absentmindedly on the napkin.

“That’s it? You’re just getting that little lettuce thing?” said Kristin, reaching across the table to poke me on the shoulder and disrupt my drawing.

I wondered why she cared, and said so. She looked affronted, and stayed silent until the waiter delivered our food, at which point she launched into conversation again.

“So, Michael, I was talking with Alex, you know Alex, he’s from my college, and he says that there was some thing over by that bridge all covered in plants and stuff where this little dog just fell off and drowned in the river. Like, drowned. Isn’t that scary?”

“Mm,” I said. She took a pause while shoving a bite into her mouth. I continued to draw on the napkin, while picking at the salad and eating a few leaves.

“He says it’s all faked and they’re just trying to collect insurance but like, who ever heard of someone getting insurance on their dog?”

“Quite unheard of, yes.” I started shading some areas of my doodle.

“Anyway, I was thinking later we could go and check out that new store off of Trenton.”

The waiter returned to check on us, and I asked for the bill. Kristin, who was only halfway through her meal, opened her mouth as if about to say something, thought better of it, and closed her mouth. I paid, and we left. I attempted to escape to my car, but Kristin called for me to wait up.

I don’t really know why I didn’t just keep walking, but for some reason I turned around and stumped back to the outside of the entrance. She started engaging me in small talk again, and fumbled in her purse for a cigarette.

“So, are you sure you don’t wanna go to that new store? I bet we could even find something that you would like,” she said playfully, flicking her lighter underneath the cigarette. The tip begun to glow ember.

“I think I’ve expended myself for your amusement enough for one day, thanks.”

“Oh, c’mon, what’s been bothering you lately? You’re so uptight.”

I struggled to remember why I had started a relationship with her in the first place. I seemed to recall thinking it would make my illusion that I was normal more intact, but most importantly, she came from a rich family, and could, with a long term relationship, supply funds. I snickered.

“What’s so funny?” She exhaled a cloud of smoke, and the wind dutifully whipped it into my eyes.

“Nothing. I really do need to go now, thanks.”

Before she could protest, I ran to my car and got in, blinking the smoke from my eyes.

I didn’t start up the engine yet. First, I admired the napkin I had been doodling on, scrunched up in my hand.

It was a moderately realistic drawing of Kristin, in the nude.

It also depicted her limbs wrenched away from her body, blood dripping from the stumps.