I am a rose.

As such, I have no name. My first memories are of cold earth and unyielding darkness. A seed knows of nothing but loneliness. When I broke through the soil for the first time, felt the weak rays of the morning sun, it was heaven, and I swore never to hide away in darkness again.

I sprouted in the shade of an old cottage, lovingly tended by a woman called 'Mother' and young girl named 'Belle'. I was watered and fed, pruned and tended for countless blissful days. I remember many an afternoon listening as the child chattered on about storybook princes, knights and dragons. She spoke of far away lands, of adventure, of excitement… of life. She confided in me her dreams of travel and seeing the vast world beyond her little town. It was on those magnificent dreams that I grew.

But it has been years since I have seen little Belle and I will never forget the day the old peddler woman came through the town selling ribbons. That was the day that changed my entire life.

I remember Belle's excited smile as she told me about her upcoming birthday. She was turning ten and she had watched her mother bake a cake while her father had hinted that he was working on a special present just for her. After she had skipped off to the lending library, I remember staring out to the front gate thinking how grand it would be to glimpse at the outside world. It wasn't long after that the peddler woman hobbled through, wheezing with each step but keeping her precious basket of ribbons clutched tight in her hands.

I suppose that Mother answered the door and upon seeing the ribbons, decided to buy one for her daughter. I don't know why she didn't pay coin for it, but she traded me for the band instead. I was only a bud at the time, but I clearly remember the flash of pain when she snapped me from my bush. I was tucked away, gently I suppose, into the basket and carried out of that gate which I had just been dreaming about. It isn't any wonder that people caution to be careful of what you wish for.

I was in so much pain that the following hours were a blur. The next I remember was staring at a large, imposing door while the peddler woman knocked upon it. The wind was crying and rain poured from the heavens in sheets. I heard her beg for shelter and I heard her cruelly being turned away. When the door slammed shut, the woman stood silent in the storm, merely staring at the wooden surface.

So much happened next, I can barely begin to tell it all. There was a flash and suddenly, it was no longer an old crone who clutched the basket but a majestic woman of ageless beauty. The doors burst open, tore away by the wind, and she floated among a glittering crowd of people – nobles, I believe they're called.

One of them, whom I now know was the prince, in all the arrogance of youth ordered that she leave. The woman was enraged and cast a terrible curse upon him. I remember the expressions of horror in the crowd as he transformed into an animal fit only for the woods.

I was plucked from the basket and given to the prince. He wanted to rend me to pieces but the woman stopped him with a word. I was to be his keeper. I would bloom every year until his twenty-first birthday and then, I would wilt one petal at a time. Unless he learned to love another and have her love him in return, when my last petal fell, that would be the end of all hope for the prince – he would remain forever a beast.

As I stare out of my glass prison into a hopeless room overgrown with despair, I know that I shall never bask in the warm, glorious sun again. I have broken my vow. And it is no comfort to know that when I die, I shall not go alone.