This world is so...lifeless.
Day after day, I open my eyes and see no color. I wear my plain, colorless uniform and join my peers in a sea of gray. I enter our small, simple classroom and sit down in a chair identical to every other. I listen as my classmates recite excerpts verbatim from our textbooks.
There is no improvisation. No attempt to inject life into those meaningless words. As such, I have no interest in them.
Even when not reading lines, their speech is just as bland. The same topics are discussed every day, such as the weather, homework, and girls. Again, not interesting to me in the slightest. And this is just as well, since no one cares to talk to me.
But that's okay. I don't need anyone to talk to. I'm not lonely, because I have...
...my garden.
It's a fine garden, enchanting and brimming with life. My parents started it, and would tend to it daily. I would watch, amazed, as each tiny seed grew and blossomed into a thing of great beauty. I would plant my own tiny seeds and wait for a magnificent plant to burst forth, but all that came up were shriveled saplings.
When I come home from the bleak, lifeless world outside, I gaze upon my garden and feel instantly rejuvenated. Each flower is like a tiny burst of color, and their diversity forms a rainbow. I feel ashamed that, even though I adore them so much, I cannot even name them all.
But while each one is wonderful and unique, the most beautiful of all is the blood-red rose. Roses come in many colors; pink, yellow, or even cream-colored, but the darkest red are the ones that always catch my eye. They have a special place in my garden, and I see to it that they get special attention.
...
A curious gentleman sometimes passes by my house. My eyes are always drawn to his mustache, as it's hard to find men who grow out their mustaches in this place. He always stops to compliment me on my flowers. Even though he is much older than I, I find him...oddly charming.
I understand that flowers have their own language, and each one has meaning associated with it. While I don't know the symbolism behind every flower, I was taught that a red rose is a symbol of love and beauty. If that's the case, I want to grow beautiful red roses so that I may give them to the man with that beautiful mustache.
Even though my parents are no longer here to tend to the garden, I do my best to keep my precious flowers alive. But despite my efforts, the color slowly starts fading away, and flowers that once stood tall and proud are now withered and hunched over. If I do nothing, the color will disappear until there is nothing but brown.
And that means...that my roses will disappear as well...
I don't want that to happen. And so, day and night, I dote on my precious roses, giving them my full attention and care. I focus on nothing else. The roses are all that matters.
And still, I can only watch as they wither away...
The next day, the mustachioed man passes by. He looks at the remnants of my once vibrant garden, and continues on without a word.
...
The color is gone...
My world has become lifeless once again.
...
I see a strange creature sitting in front of me. It is like nothing I have ever seen. And, to my astonishment, it speaks.
"I can help you."
I listen, unquestioning.
"All you need to do is make a contract with me."
Of course...anything to bring my roses back...
"Just state your wish, and I can make it happen."
My wish is quite clear.
"Please...I want to be able to grow beautiful flowers..."
...
Then, as I tend to my roses once again, they spring to life as if by magic. The dull brown is gone, and replacing it is that mesmerizing deep red that I adore. I shall grow as many as I can to give to that curious gentleman.
Sure enough, the next time he comes by, I have a bundle of them prepared for him, and as he thanks me for the gift, I decide that I shall confess my love to him right then and there. But after I say those words to him, he frowns and tells me...that he is already married. He tells me that he's flattered by my admiration, but that I should try going after a boy my age. A nice, average...normal boy. He then goes on to tell me that he and his wife are expecting a child, and that he won't have time to pass by my house anymore. And with that, he walks away.
...
But it's okay. I still have my roses.
No matter what, my roses will always be there.
I'll grow as many of them as I can.
There's no need for anything else.
The roses are all that matters...
...
Roses are all that matters...
...