Rosa

Every street tells a story. And this one in particular seemed to. A narrow road, curved, the very heart of the village. The winter evening was settling down and was now fading into the inescapable darkness that drapes itself like a funeral shroud over everything at this time of night. Six o’ clock. Smells of chestnuts mingled with the rancid aroma of cigarettes pervaded the street. Yellow smoke from chimneys slid across the night sky. A poet had once commented that April was the cruellest month, but an individual standing on this street would argue that February would better fit this description.

On the right side of this street stood a small pub. A battered oak sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door and it creaked slowly in the wind as if it felt the cold and was shivering.

Stepping now into the comforting embrace of the lights was the girl. She did not bask in the warming glow long, as she hurried down the cold street. No sooner had she stepped into the lights’ drowsy luminescence then she slipped away from them and back once more into the gloom. Rosa! The name itself did not pay justice to the girl. A billow of soft, lustrous nut-brown hair fluttered down her shoulders and framed her rosy cheeks, even more flushed tonight in the bracing cold. Her eyes were the colour of hazels, framed by naturally thick black lashes. Above them were sharp eyebrows, which gave her face an alert but not intimidating look and contrasted with her face which was as pale as a white rose. Her attractiveness did not lie in her looks alone; the sparkle of her eyes betrayed her as a pretty, witty, impish monkey with lively and unusual charm. But this side of her was suppressed, at least for the time being and was replaced by a more sombre disposition. She was dressed in a coat that was two sizes too big, wrapped tightly around her and her neck was protected from the icy blasts of wind by a jade green scarf, knitted by her grandmother. Over her left shoulder hung a frayed bag, which banged rhythmically against her knee. Her relatives always remarked,” The very image of her mother,” and crossed themselves out of respect for the dead woman. Her mother did not blossom long, dying young soon after the birth of her only child, leaving her daughter motherless.

Rosa moved swiftly down the road, as she did not wish to stay too long in this troublesome chill with gusts of glacial wind biting at the skin- her hands, her face- that was exposed to the elements.

And in the darkness, the girl became aware of the eyes. Across the street from her, someone was watching her. Rosa knew even though she could not see. She paused in her step and looked directly across the street, as she knew that there was someone there. But she could not tell, it was too dark...

It began to snow. She felt the snowflakes land on her eyelashes and saw them flutter gently to the ground around her. Not wanting to linger in the icy cold any longer, she began to walk again, telling herself that it was not important discovering who those eyes belonged to and why they were watching her.

Upon reached her house, her numb fingers grasped her keys and navigated the lock successfully. With relief she tumbled into her house and closed the door to the invading flurries. Her father would be glad to see her safely home from her after-school club.

The next day was bitterly cold. Rosa sat in the school library but was unable to concentrate on her Geography essay. Her hair was pulled into loose plaits and she wore, in order to protect herself from the cold, a v-necked white jumper, with the collar of a blue blouse underneath, protruding. The cold in here seeped through to her bones. And to make it worse the library was deserted. Well, not quite. There was, seated in front of her, a boy, who often appeared in the library but never seemed to talk to anyone. She didn’t know him. He was heavy looking with a dark face and stern features.

She was not prepared to just hover around in the library, in this state of ennui and so decided to go. She couldn’t stand it here anymore. Pushing her books, pens and sheets of paper scruffily into her schoolbag Rosa stood up and swung it onto her shoulder and made as if to leave. However as she walked by the unknown boy, something about the book in front of him caught her eye.

She stopped and looked down at the front of the book he was reading. “A History of Vampires,” she said aloud.

He looked up in surprise and then hastily attempted to compose himself. With fear that she was mocking him, he said defiantly. “Nothing wrong with that is there?”

“Oh, no, “ she answered and she looked concerned that she had offended him. “ I was just interested, that’s all.” She held out her hand towards him. “May I see?”

Warily, he closed the book and passed it over to her. Rosa opened it and found herself looking at illustrations of vampire bats, with their blood-sucking fangs at the ready. Ready for what, Rosa? she asked herself but she already knew. The pages were dusty, Rosa would’ve bet that no one before them had touched this book for years. She ran her index finger lightly down the middle of the page and then she held her finger up to artificial light. She would have to wash that finger before she ate again, she thought, and then grimaced.

She slammed it shut and the dust flew in a grimy gust up towards her face. Another grimace. She handed the book back to him.

“You didn’t like it?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” Rosa gave him a small, delicate smile. “I’m very interested in vampires actually. It was just the dustiness of the book.”

“Oh,” he answered, wondering why on earth, this girl of all people was talking to him. He was no great looker and was not renowned for his personality. Unless she was generally interested in vampires, which he imagined was unlikely.

She smiled at him again and turned as if to leave and then he took his chance. With the tiniest of glances around him, he leaned out and grabbed her hand.

Jumping in surprise, she turned to him, a look of bewilderment, and a small hint of what looked like antagonism on her face.

“If you’re really interested in vampires,” he whispered and she leant in to hear him, “I have some stuff that you might be like. Come down to the woods at the end of school tonight. If you come in by the entrance near the Bakers and walk down the path there to a clearing, you’ll find me.”

“What is it you want to show me?”

“I don’t want to say anything here. The librarian might overhear.”

She pulled her hand away from his grasp and surveyed him. “Why do you want me to meet you there?”

He took a deep breath. “I’ve...I’ve got a secret place there, that I like to go to sometimes. I’m usually found there most evenings.” He looked earnestly at her. “I’ll see you there?”

“Maybe,” her face was unsmiling now and she was looking at him suspiciously.

“I’ll see you, Rosa,” he said, and she murmured some sort of good bye and turned to leave. She was at the door before she wondered how he knew her name.



She was not going to go, she told herself. It was obviously a thinly veiled ploy in order to entice her into the woods. And then what? She didn’t even know his name. In fact she thought he was quite bizarre and had only started talking to him because she was genuinely interested in what the book was that he was reading. She wasn’t going anywhere near the woods this afternoon. So why then did she find herself entering into the woods near the Bakers and taking the path towards the center?

What am I doing? Rosa asked herself. It was approaching twilight. It was also getting chilly and she shuddered. She seemed to spend her evenings wandering around in the cold and dark.

Putting her head down, the girl kept on walking. She knew really that the most sensible option was for her was to turn around and head home but her legs continued to carry her along the path. Curiosity, that was the reason for her behaviour. Her mother had been a curious woman, with an inquisitive mind and Rosa had inherited this inquiring streak.

She was determined not to be afraid. Ignoring the ominousness of the woods, which were closing around her like the jaws of a wild animal, she kept walking along the path until suddenly the path converged upon a darkening clearing. In the middle of this clearing sat a figure whose face was only lit by the bonfire burning steadily in front of it.

At the sound of a rustling among the trees the figure looked up to see Rosa emerging into the clearing. Across his face flashed an expression of mild astonishment, evidently he had not expected this. He stood up and eyed her awkwardly.

“You came then,” he said to her.

She shrugged her shoulders and stepped forwards to move nearer to the bonfire. “Yeah, looks like it doesn’t it? Bet you didn’t think I would.”

It was his turn to shrug his shoulders. “You underestimated me,” she said simply in return.

When he said nothing, she ploughed on. “So what is it you were going to show me?”

He mumbled incoherently. “Sorry?” she asked politely.

“I didn’t...I mean, there isn’t...I didn’t think you were going to come. I said that to get you here. I mean why would you come? You don’t even know my name.”

“I’ll tell you why I came,” she answered him, “apart from sheer curiosity.”

There was a pause and Rosa walked around to his side of the bonfire.

“I saw you,” she said to him. “I saw you last night. You were watching me. On the high street.”

Her face searched his face as if looking for answers. But he wasn’t prepared to give her any. He stared fixedly down at the flames

“You can’t just stalk people, you know,” she said to his head. “ It’s creepy for one thing. A girl could be scared by something like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she heard him say. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Her laughter. “D’you think I’m scared?” she asked him. “I came here, didn’t I? I don’t scare easily.”

He lifted his head up from the fire and said, “I’m sorry anyway. And I’m sorry for dragging you out in the woods. It was a stupid idea. I just wanted to see if you’d come. I can’t believe you really did.”

There was a quick smile and a shrug of her shoulders. “Do you use this trick on a lot of girls? Luring us out here?”

He shook his head violently. “No, just you.” He stood up. “But you don’t have to stay. Just go if you want and never talk to me again. I’d understand.”

She gave him a small sideways smile and walked around to his side of the fire. “First I have to ask you something. How long?”

He looked down at her. “What?”

She turned away and looked up at the crescent moon hanging in the dusky sky. “How long have you been following me?”

“I’ve been stalking you for months,” he told her, an edge of guilt creeping into her voice. “I think I’m obsessed with you.” He waited and within the pause, the silence seemed huge, until it was gushing over him like an ocean wave. She finally replied, “I’ve known all the time.”

There was a silence as he absorbed her words. She did not move but stood motionlessly staring up at the moon. “I’ve got something to show you,” he heard her whisper.

And then she turned to him. Her eyes glittered by the firelight and in her eyes was an expression he had never seen before. She smiled at him. And her smile grew bigger until he realised it wasn’t a smile.

There was something more. Slowly her mouth opened and her greatest secret was revealed to him. He looked with shock and then growing realisation at the white teeth displayed before him- normal except for the blood gleaming on their pointed edges. She closed her mouth and this time she really did smile at him, before stepping up to him and kissing him.