A Dried Rose
By: Amako-chan
( I was listening to the song, "Hello" – Evanescence. And I had it on repeat for an hour in order to be able to write this Fanfic! If you read carefully…I think you can catch onto what happened. )
He slowly approached the small, curved rock. There was an inscription there.
Varieties of flowers laid across the dirt in front of the stone, and beside it as well. He
trembled as he approached, his chin quivered, his eyes watered. A single tear rolled
hesitantly down his right cheek. It had carved a new pathway into his flesh.
He walked, as he had walked the day he had approached her coffin. It had been well-
polished, and white. Cloud white. Inside of it, the body of a small girl lie. Her simple
smile drawn out across her lips. Her blue eyes hidden beneath pale eyelids. Pale.
Something the girl had never been before, unless she was sick. Her long, straight, light
brown hair formed around her. She looked as though, she were merely asleep. He knew
better then that.
The crowd of people who sat in the black, fold-up chairs, were weeping. Women with
tissues, and men who'd wipe at their eyes, as they bowed their heads. Not him. His tears
showed clearly. He wanted to turn back to the day, of the accident. He wanted to run out
into the street, and shove her onto the curb. Maybe then, he'd be the one in the coffin.
He remembered approaching the coffin, and looking down on the pale, smiling child.
A little dream girl. The Priest has recognized who he was instantly, and slipped one of
the white roses from the little girls coffin. He'd handed it to him. Offering the boy a
gentle smile of sorrow.
Now, as he carried that same white rose, in a small black box, he approached her
stone. The stone of the dream girl. He had a fresh bouquet of white roses in his other
hand. This time, there was no darkened crowd of weeping people watching him as he
passed. No, this time, it was the surrounding stones, and their few visitors, who watched
him as he passed. Tears staining his skin, as they slipped from his violet eyes.
He dropped to his knees at the stone, and placed the fresh, white roses at the ledge of
the stone, his dried, white rose, sitting in it's little, black box, which still sat in his lap.
He read the inscription to himself in silence.
' Shindo, Maiko. June. 02, 1990 – August. 05, 1996. Loving daughter, sister, and
friend. Rest In Peace. '
He stroked his index finger over the dried rose.
" I miss you, Mai-chan…"
He'd been only eight years old at the date of her death. He was twelve now. Four
years, without his only little sister. He lifted the dried rose, in it's box, as he stood, and
turned around. He's only walked a few steps when he lifted his gaze, and saw him.
A male with short, golden blonde hair, and brilliant, amber eyes, was walking towards
his sisters grave. He carried a bouquet of white roses in his arms, and stopped short when
he recognized the tear-stained face of the young boy. The brother, of the girl, who's
grave he was heading out to visit. His mouth opened, as if he were about to say
something, but he closed his mouth again, his words not finding him.
" Murderer, " the young boy said simply, before he took off running. The older male
watched him go, before heading towards the grave site, to pay his respects to the young
girl, who lost her life, because of him.
