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Autumn Rose

Autumn Rose

Description : Autumn Rose
I suppose I always knew I was different;

that my fate was set in stone, and that one day,

I would sit on a cold, hard throne.

A symbol of what I am. A deity of my kind.

A deity among many.

I was not conscious. I was running through the green grass, screaming her name in a tongue as familiar to me as the shadow that the tall gray-stone building cast in my path. Tears streaked my face and I struggled to climb the steps, hearing the babble behind the closed entrance doors, like the stream beside the lodge that would swell after the winter rains. My polished, square, school-approved heels squealed in protest as I burst through the double doors,ing across the same sight I had seen a thousand times: hundreds of faces turning to me, and then blackness. I waited, breathless though asleep, for the scene to replay itself as it always had in the past.

But this time was different. Instead of waking up in a cold sweat, cheeks wet, bed soaked, I drifted into another scene. Now, a tall statue loomed in front of me and sunlight glinted off pale paving and the tumbling water in two identical fountains. Almost as though somebody had hit fast-forward, the scene sped up and I watched, captivated, as thousands of suit-clad humans and camera-carrying tourists rushed from one side of a square to the other. The clouds sailed across the gray, simmering ocean of a sky, the square darkening as day turned to night, Nelson lighting up on his column as fewer and fewer people passed by. Eventually, Trafalgar Square emptied of any life, except for a few pigeons and a lone girl.

The scene slowed and focused on the girl. Dark hair framed...