Annabelle

I made this for my English 5-hour test. It is a first draft, but I think you'll like it.

“Excuse me, ma'am, but how much for this rose?” Annabelle looked up at the woman behind the counter. She looked around 60 years old, wore a big rose-coloured skirt and a green tank top. Annabelle thought it looked absolutely hideous. The woman smiled to Annabelle.

“95 pence,” she answered. “A very nice rose, I must say. Who is it for?” As she talked, the old woman held up her hand in front of her.

“Oh, no one special,” Annabelle answered her while handing over the 95 pence for the rose. “I just like its colour,” she continued. The old woman's smile grew even bigger.

“Well then, have a nice day,” she said to Annabelle after putting the coins into the cash register.

“Thank you. You as well, ma'am,” Annabelle responded, before turning around and walking out of the store. The weather in Oxford was magnificent. The light from the sun made every single colour look nicer. The grass was greener, the roses more red, and everything just seemed nicer and warmer. The little store she had just been in was in the outskirts of the city. Although Oxford is not exactly the biggest city in England, it is still full of tourists and cars when the sun is at its highest. Annabelle did not like all the sounds of the city. She preferred the calmer part of town.

She started moving up the street. There was a market at this part of town that day, so there were a lot of stalls with different products she could buy. But Annabelle was just there for the rose. People around looked at her. They thought about where she was going and who the rose was for. Some people thought it was for a boyfriend or someone special. Some people thought it was for a family member. But no one knew it. Annabelle liked knowing that she was the only one who knew. The only one who had any idea about where this rose was headed. She smirked every time she thought about it.

As she arrived at her home, she untied her shoes, walked into the bathroom, and locked the door. She put the rose on a little chair close to the bathtub. She took a short shower, cleaning her hair and body, before she dried herself with a big blue towel. She looked at her reflection. She was not very tall, nor was she short. Her body was white and slender, while her hair was red like a rose. Her big blue eyes looked so innocent.

Then she put on a nice dress, some make-up and a pair of lovely pink shoes. She then put her hair up in a ponytail with a bang on each side of her head. I look pretty nice, she thought to herself.

Then she walked out of her house.

The next day, the skies were grey. She walked back to the flower shop from the day before. She found a rose, equal to the one she bought the day before. The conversation went the same way as well. She asked the price, the clerk answered, she then gave her the 95 pence, before she walked out again. Then she headed back to her home, cleaned herself, and put on the dress from the day before. After she got out of her house, she started walking up the street opposite street of the one she had come from. She thought to herself that she was the nicest girl on earth. She bought flowers for someone who needed to feel good about themselves. She could not wait to see his face when she handed over the flower.

The third day, it had started raining. Annabelle did the same thing she had done the day before. But something was different. She did not feel happy this day. Instead, she felt heavy inside. When she walked towards the hospital with the flower, she felt at unease. Something did not feel right. She went in the main door. Inside, it was white. A few nurses walked around, but nothing really interesting happened. Annabelle continued walking in a calm manner. It would all be okay once she got to his room. She walked up the stairs to the second floor. Then she searched for room 203, the room he was in. Before she opened the door, she smiled to herself. This was it.

John had cancer in his pancreas. There was nothing they could do about it. He had accepted his fate. But when he had about a year left, someone came into his room. A young girl. She called herself Anna. She was not tall, nor was she short. She had a slender, white body, and she wore a beautiful, white dress. Her long red hair was held up like a pony tail, with a bang on each side of her face. And she wore small, pink shoes. And with her, she carried a rose. She gave this rose to John, and they sat there, talking for a while

John did not know this girl, but every day, she visited him. With the same clothes, and an equal looking rose. And every time, she smiled to him. And he smiled back. And they talked. But he knew that she was sick. Every day for almost a year. The same dress, the same shoes, the same pony tail, the same perfume, and she always talked about the same thing, with the same enthusiasm as if this was the first day. So he pretended with her.

The third day, the boy was not in his room. Instead, there were 300 roses. Many of them were old, tainted and ruined. But a dozen were still alive. And they were all lying on his bed.