The story of a red rose

Once upon a time, there was a young student, named Robert, who was in love with his schoolmate, Mariah. Every single day he wrote her notes, with different compliments, without letting her know who was behind them. He was too afraid of being rejected.

'I love the way you touch your hair'

'That silk scarf accentuates your big beautiful green eyes'

'You look perfectly without make-up, like a lively red rose'

Mariah was extremely enthusiastic, but in the end, she said: Enough with the mystery! She wanted to know who was behind the beautiful compliments. So, one day she stood in front of the class and asked all her class-mates to confess. Nobody took her seriously, so Mariah became very angry. Robert was still afraid of confessing the truth.

The next day, Robert wrote her another note.

'I am sorry. I was too shy to confess who's behind the notes, from fear you might not like me. If you want, I'll meet you after classes, right across the street. You will recognize me by the red rose I'll keep in my hands'

Said and done. Mariah was extremely enthusiastic to finally meet the person who conquered her through writing. She did not care about the way he looked; she was already in love with his personality and his romance, so aspect was less important. When she found out she was going to meet him, she instantly began dreaming about true love, about marriage and even kids.

After classes, Mariah perfumed her scarf, applied lipstick on her lips, and left the high school. There she sees, right across the street, a boy keeping a red rose in his hands. It was the most popular boy in high school, and one of the most handsome ones. She has been into him since she was in kindergarten, so this dream seemed too beautiful to be real.

They stood one in front of the other, for a couple of seconds, on different sides of the road. The only thing separating them now was a zebra crossing. Robert opened his arms and smiled, waiting for Mariah right across the street. Mariah was in seventh heaven! She took her bag and ran enthusiastically to him, holding all the notes he wrote to her from the beginning, in her hands.

Suddenly, a big track appears right in front of her and...hits her at full speed. The red rose crashes down first. Mariah lies down unconsciously, in a pool of blood. The second rose kisses the ground.

At the end of the day, the gardener takes his life.

The never-ending story

      When I was a kid, I used to play a lot in the garden. My father always told me I was his little princess, till I really started believing I was a princess. So, I created my own kingdom, made of wood and grass, and I turned my dolls into my humble servants. I grew up waiting for a charming prince on a white horse, who would have saved me from the claws of loneliness, and would have taken me far away to unknown lands. He never came. 

        Instead of him, other self-titled princes came to me, with tattoos and pierces in their tongues, wearing ripped jeans and tight shirts. The white horse was replaced by white Lamborghini and red Ferrari, and the romantic invitation by a straight phrase:

      'Whassup bitch, wanna go out?'

I am neither disappointed, nor angry. In time, I understood that even frogs could turn into princes, if the right person kisses them.