Another weird fanfiction. Contemplative thing; set after Sonic Heroes (I guess).
Oh yes. I also posted this under my other alias, Shadow-Phantasm, on the Sonic
Zone Forums. So you might recongize it.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Hnn.
W H I T E R O S E S
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Thorns can cut into your skin
But they cut deeper into your soul.
And there's blood from those dark scars
But blood flows ever blacker from the heart.
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Sunlight illuminated the busy streets of Station Square, reflecting off thousands of glass panels and shining like a prism. If you looked up at one of the buildings today, you would have seen a dark blot against the shimmering sun that afternoon.
Shadow the hedgehog surveyed the city beneath his feet, not really thinking at all. It felt good just to stand and absorb the sun's rays and watch all the people and animals alike scurry on the ground below.
...Okay, he'd had enough. The black hedgehog was about to break into a run when a voice broke into this thoughts—"Shadow! Hey, Shadow!"
The source of the voice turned out to be Amy Rose as she popped out of the flight of stairs from the building they were standing on. She carried an enormous basket, filled to the brim with flowers of different varieties, but mostly roses. "Hey Shadow, this is for you!" And with that she shoved a bouquet of roses at him.
Shadow arched an eyebrow. "What's this for?"
She smiled happily. "Today's flower day! I'm giving flowers to all my friends!" He eyed her basket with a tad of distaste, noting the brightest and most gaudy of the bunch was most likely for Sonic.
"Whatever. Thanks." She nodded and turned, skipping across the rooftop and down the stairs. Shadow stared at the flowers in his hand for a moment; it was populated by mostly white roses and black roses, and but a single pink one.
"Roses..."
He felt like he should remember something but couldn't. The last time he'd be given a flower was from Rouge, but only because someone else had given them to her and she didn't want them. He couldn't really care less, but it felt like something was picking at his mind—a faint memory—he tried to concentrate on as hard as he could.
An image. A girl with blonde hair; what was her name? She was pointing to a rose in a capsule...Look, Shadow. It's a rose.
Rose?
Yes. Isn't it pretty? A rose is a flower.
Do you like flowers?
Yes, a lot. Did you know flowers have a languge?
Really?
Yeah! Every flower has a meaning. This one—She pointed at the white rose—Means 'innocence, eternal love, secrecy' and' silence'.
What about those? He pointed at the other colors.
Yellow, friendship, jealousy. Red, love or 'I love you'. Pink, perfect happiness, 'Please believe me'. Black, death. She made a face at the last color.
The hedgehog frowned softly. Why is it in a capsule?
It has to be. She smiled sadly. As beautiful as it is, it has to be locked up, for my safety. And I wish it could be free, too.
His gaze shifted back to the flowers, mulling over the three colors Amy had given him. He still couldn't remember who this girl was, or why he'd been looking at roses with her, but the memory of roses meant was regardless a memory to be held on to in his quest to figure out who he was.
White.
Secrecy and silence.
Yeah, he had secrets. Lots of them. Like when he lied to Rouge to keep her from eating the rest of the Doritos.
Pink.
Perfect happiness...
Happy? Yeah, right. Since when had he been happy? Though that memory he'd just uncovered made him feel strangely content, and he'd remembering being 'happy' at that point of time...
...Please believe me...
Believe what? Believe that maybe he had a reason for existing, even though that Eggman bastard said he had no past or future? Maybe he was just getting too deep into the flowers thing. They were just stupid plants anyway... But as Shadow stared at the bouquet he couldn't help but feel it was starting to reflect his life.
Black.
...Death...
Death. How did that fit in? He couldn't remember killing anyone. More unconscious memories began to rise in his mind, and suddenly he was really confused. He couldn't remember doing any of these things; running along a track in space? Inserting emeralds into a giant machine... the surge of power of chaos emeralds... In each memory he saw himself; it was like watching a TV. Seeing himself doing these actions he couldn't remember.
He lifted the black rose from the rest of them, finger the stem silently. Death.
Why did he suddenly feel so sad?
Death.
Then he saw another vision—the black velvet of space around him, dotted with silver stars; the image of the girl, fear wide in her eyes, as she shoved him into a pod and pressed a button. The image of her sad yet still happy eyes as she whispered words he couldn't remember to him; the image of an explosion behind her, as he spun away in space, as she closed her eyes...
His clenched the flower in his fist tightly, ignoring the pain as the thorns dug into his palm. It didn't matter anyway, because the stinging sensation was nothing compared to the emotion that ate at his heart.
Who was she?
Why did she do that?
Why?
So many questions... and yet there was no one to answer them. He could probably never understand the mysterious girl, but a sense of longing and sorrow filled his mind when those two memories replayed in his head.
The sharp glare of a street lamp startled Shadow; one by one the street lamps lit up. He hadn't realized had long he'd been standing there; gazing at the horizon, the ruby-streaked hedgehog realized that the sun had almost set and it was getting dark.
All he knew now was that he felt unbearably miserable...
...And it hurt even more because he didn't know why.
He stared at the bouquet and placed the black rose back among the others, ignoring the blood that flowed from his fingers. He stared at the white; how much longer would this secrecy, this silence in his panicked heart last?
"As beautiful as it is, it has to be locked up... I wish it could be free, too."
As the sun sank below the sea he turned and walked away, but not before he pulled out that pink rose and threw it over the edge.
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And that pink rose drifts down in twilight dusk
Just like the memory of the two of us
And as he runs and runs from it all—
The story ends; let the curtains fall...
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