The White Rosebush

Prologue

Run. It's a simple word. One that invokes in us a deep emotion; a feeling of fear which we might escape, but also one that few people ever truly experience. True fear is unrealistically elusive. Or maybe it isn't the word "run" that invokes this horror; perhaps it is fear that triggers the desire to run, even when we know it's futile. Either way I looked at it, I could come to one conclusion. The two go hand in hand in a vicious, endless cycle of terror. On this dark night in my life, I was feeling a strong sense of fear, and, although I knew running would be pointless, I found myself dashing through the ruined city regardless. Maybe I was scared to die; I certainly had a good reason. Death was fast approaching, like the day turning in to night. It was inevitable.

The sky was flashing with bursts of fire, temporarily dyeing the darkness around me red, over and over again. I could hear the planes behind, or rather, above me, carrying their deadly cargo that would lead to nothing but death and destruction. Soon I could see the plane, the flying death machine that stalked me like a bloodthirsty starved animal. A realization came over me. It was over. My fear ebbed. I stopped running. I couldn't move; I was numb. Since the aircraft was just above me, I knew it would be over soon enough. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer it would be painless, regretting that I wouldn't get the chance to see my mother and sister one last time... Before I lost consciousness, the last thing I saw was the black swastika painted on the wings of the plane, striking against the pure white background, and the last thing I thought was, oddly enough, how I wanted my white rosebush to survive this.

*Authors note: I'll try to update this at least once a week. I can take a while when I'm busy, and I don't rush things because I like everything to be exactly the way I want it before uploading. Thanks for the support. :)