The Blue Rose

The Blue Rose
I sat at the pub with Patrick and Reynolds knocking back a few beers on our weekend leave. Patrick was a young chap, barely nineteen years old and fired up to kill the Nazis, even though our supply troop saw any combat.
Finally, I laughed, “Boy, if you actually had to shoot somebody, you’d shit in your pants!”
Reynolds raised his beer in agreement as our table got quiet,” Good one, Kit.”
I sat back crossing my arms, watching Patrick tighten his lips. Reynolds was an eternal bachelor, and kept to himself, rumor had it he wasn’t exactly a “ladies man”. I was a widow of three years, Julia had died leaving me alone in the world, after for nearly five years of gruesome treatments. I had resolved to finish this tour, and return home, and maybe start my life over in a new city.
Reynolds and Patrick stayed at the pub, but I left, and that is when I saw her.
She was a small shadow by the corner of the inn. I was struck with wonder, at how a creature so beautiful could exists in a world so torn by blood and war. Her hair was golden curls over her shoulders, and her face was the shape of a heart. Her pale ivory skin had a hint of a blush on her lips and cheeks. She was as delicate as a porcelain doll, and her large eyes glowed a brilliant blue in the dark night. Her lips curved into a bashful smile as I ran my eyes over her like a hungry wolf.
I desired her, and at the same time held her in reverance. I didn’t want to ruin perfection, but I wanted to consume this delicate beauty, and feel the pleasure of her body.
Her simple pale blue dress shimmered in the street light. My faith in beauty would be destroyed if this lovely girl was a prostitute, then she called my name, “Kit?”
My face grow red with heat, and I said, “Yes.”
She smiled, “You don’t remember me?”
I had never seen this woman, and Julia had dark, Italian features, I stuttered, “N-n-o.”
“I’m Rose, “ and she turned to look down the alley, “I will see you another time.”
The echo of drunken soldiers stammering towards us, made her take off running, as she disappeared into the night.
********
As we sat down to eat breakfast at the inn, I picked at the food, still haunted by Rose. Patrick watched me, and asked, “Hey, you have a problem with the food?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Reynolds looked up, and asked, “You sick?”
“No.”
“Why you moping?” Reynolds asked putting his fork down.
“I saw a girl last night.”
Reynolds went back to eating.
Patrick dropped his fork, “Was she pretty? How much-“
“Shut up, Patrick!” I said through clenched teeth.
“Whoa, Kit!”
Reynolds asked, “What happened, she robbed you?”
“No, she was beautiful, and she knew my name. But, she ran off.”
“I haven’t seen any beautiful girls in this village, most of them are fat country girls.” Patrick clicked his tongue still shoveling food in his mouth.
I ignored the scrawny kid and went on, “She had golden hair and a beautiful smile, her eyes were big, and blue. Her name was Rose.”
The Brit at the next table dropped his fork, and stared at us. He was an old man, bald and fat, and he started choking on his food. Patrick offered him some water from our pitcher, but he knocked it away. When he approached our table, I recognized him from the market, he ran the fruit stand.
He pointed his finger at me, and asked, “You saw the wench?”
I nodded, afraid I had committed some crime.
“Stay away, my boy. She’s the blue rose, she will only bring you pain.”
Suddenly, Mr. Talbot started coughing again, and he slumped over in his chair. We stood up trying to help him, and his face turned from red to purple, to finally a blue cast that engulfed his lips.
Patrick and Reynolds called the innkeeper for a doctor, as I sat back in my chair in silence. They advised me not to mention the girl again, but her voiced echoed in my mind calling my name, and I wanted to hear her scream my name in ecstasy, but I did as I was told.
I left the inn early that night, while Reynolds took a nap, and Patrick searched for the local brothel. I stood in the shadows on the corner where I saw her, and I smoked one cigarette after the other. The town was quiet with dark clouds forecasting a spring storm. The moon was high in the sky, when I saw her lingering in the shadows behind the inn, like before.
I called her name, ”Rose?”
She wandered out of the shadows with a sheepish smile on her face.
Rose came close and put her arms around my neck.
I laughed, my nerves cracking, “ I don’t you-“
“Shhh,” Rose said as she put her finger on my lips, and I noticed her rose on her wrist.
Her veins were blue under her pale skin, and they entwined into the shape of a rose, a blue rose.
“Why do they call you the Blue Rose?”
She purred as her lips pressed against my neck, and she asked, “Have you ever seen a blue rose?’
“No.”
“I am a rarity, only special people see me. I’m mystical.”
“Religious?”
She shook her head in the negative, as her fangs rested on her bottom lip.
Her eyes darkened to black, and I was paralyzed by both desire and fear. Her kiss was the smell of roses and cinnamon, converging together in delicious aroma. Her legs wrapped around my hips, and we united in pleasure and pain.
As in birth, blood, screams, and pain.
My soul was hers, the Blue Rose, forever.