Click here for nice stories main menu

main menu   |   youngsters categories   |   authors   |   new stories   |   search   |   links   |   settings   |   author tools


Rose (standard:Ghost stories, 3977 words)
Author: Tiffany HarringtonAdded: Jun 22 2005Views/Reads: 3984/2488Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Young Karen Harper is forced to leave the only family she knows. She befriends a poverty stricken little girl who turns her world upside down.
 



Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

before and waited. After sitting for about thirty minutes I was almost 
ready to give up, and then there she was. She appeared from behind a 
tree from somewhere in the woods. I never even heard her footsteps as 
she approached me. She still looked like a living doll, wearing the 
same outfit from the night before. “Hi!” she said, bouncing towards me. 
“Hi,” I replied. “Do you want to play,” she asked me. “Sure!” We both 
took off running into the woods. We played for hours. Soon it was 
lunchtime and I was getting hungry. “Do you want to come to my house 
and eat lunch with me?” I asked Rose. “No, I'm not hungry. You go ahead 
and eat. I'll see you later.” “Well, you can come anyway. You don't 
have to eat. You can meet my mom.” Rose smiled, “I can't. I'll see you 
later.” She took off running behind a tree and disappeared. I ran home 
a little disappointed and told my mom all about my new friend. My mom 
told me to invite her to spend the night sometimes. She was happy that 
I found someone to play with. 

Rose and I played all summer long in the woods. We would climb trees,
chase lizards, and catch lightning bugs. My parents started to worry 
about me because I was spending so much time with Rose and wouldn't 
ever play with any of the other kids. My mother would set up play dates 
with some of the girls in the neighborhood, but whenever I would take 
them to meet Rose, she would never show. She only wanted to play with 
me and I only wanted to play with her. She was my best friend. 

My parents thought I was making her up because I would never bring her
over to play.  I tried to tell them that she wasn't imaginary but they 
didn't believe me. I discussed it with Rose. “My parents don't believe 
me when I tell them about you, Rose. They think I'm lying. Won't you 
please come over and play at the house so they will believe me?” I 
begged her. Rose dropped her head in silence. “What's wrong Rose?” “I 
can't come over. My daddy is a mean man. If he found out that I went to 
your house he would be very angry with me. I want to show you 
something.” Rose grabbed my hand and led me deep in the woods. We 
walked in silence for at least thirty minutes before we finally came to 
a small clearing deep into the woods. A very old, nearly condemned 
house stood in the small clearing. Almost every window was shattered 
and busted out. The roof of the old enclosed porch was severely 
sagging. The smell of old rotting wood and mold wafted heavily through 
the air.  An old porch swing, the old gray paint chipping off, was 
barely hanging on to the roof with only one old rusted chain. It 
creaked as the wind blew threw it, just barely budging the old thing. 
The old stone steps were chipped and crumbling. The whole house looked 
as if you blew on it the whole thing would come crashing down. The 
front door stood wide open. The storm door was latched, but the screen 
was practically gone. Wasps and flies swarmed in and out of the 
opening. I could see into the living room through the old mesh. An old 
decaying green couch was the only furniture that appeared to be in the 
living room. No pictures or ornaments decorated the walls or mantel 
right above the tiny fireplace. The only decorations to be seen were 
the dead leaves and termite holes that had been drilled into the walls 
and floor. Right beyond the living room, part of a kitchen could be 
seen. It looked as if there were broken dishes on the floor. A trashcan 
had been tipped over, as if a raccoon or perhaps a dog had gotten into 
it.  It literally looked as if the life had been sucked out of the tiny 
old house. An old broken coffee table sat splintered in front of the 
couch. This house was definitely not suited for someone to live in. In 
fact, it appeared as if no one had lived here for years. “What is this, 
Rose?” I asked in confusion as to why she had brought me here. Her head 
kind of dropped in shame, “This is where I live.” I stood and stared in 
amazement that someone actually lived here. It seemed impossible to me 
that beautiful Rose lived in such filth and decay. It would explain a 
lot. She always wore the same exact outfit everyday. Now I realized 
that she lived in poverty and that was all she had. “Show me your 
room,” I told her, stepping towards the house. “NO!” she screamed at 
me. I jumped, startled at Rose's sudden anger. She had never been angry 
or cross with me. “You can never go inside my house! Never! My daddy is 
a mean man! He will hurt you! Don't ever go inside my house!” Rose 
screamed at me. “Okay,” I quietly replied back. I knew Rose was ashamed 
of her house, but she didn't have to hide things from me. I didn't care 
what her house looked like. She was still my best friend. She turned 
and walked away from the house. “Come on.” I followed her back out of 
the woods in silence. When we got back to the rock where we met 
everyday, I turned to apologize to her. She was gone. She was always 
disappearing like that. I just shrugged it off and made my way home. I 
felt bad for Rose. I prayed for God to take Rose out of her situation 
that night. I wanted to tell my mom about how bad Rose lived but I 
didn't want her feeling sorry for her. I knew Rose didn't want anyone 
feeling sorry for her. I just went to bed wishing I could do more. 

The next day I went to the rock where we met everyday, but Rose never
showed. I waited around all day.  It started getting dark. I waited a 
little longer until I couldn't wait anymore. I was worried about Rose. 
Maybe her dad had found out that she showed me her house and was mean 
to her. Although I had never seen any bruises or marks on Rose, she did 
warn me as to how mean he was. Maybe she was grounded and couldn't come 
out for a while. I didn't know what to think. I hoped she wasn't mad at 
me. After all, she was the one who had brought me to her house on her 
own. I never asked her to show me what she had shown me. Frustrated and 
confused, I went home. I tried to sleep but it was nearly impossible. 
Rose was injected into my every dream. I woke up in a sweat. It was 
stifling in my room so I went to open the window to let the fresh 
midnight air in. There she was standing at the edge of the woods. Her 
smile pierced the darkness. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't 
dreaming. Nope, she was still there. I slipped on my shoes and climbed 
out the window. I nearly tripped over my feet trying to get to the 
woods. “Rose! Where were you today?” I asked, nearly crying tears of 
joy. Her bright eyes dimmed a little as she turned to me in sadness, 
“Karen, I can't play with you anymore.” My heart sank in my chest, 
“What? Why not? Did I get you in trouble? I'll be glad to talk to your 
dad.” A small tear streaked her face, “No, Karen. It's not your fault. 
Its just time for me to go. You'll be leaving soon too.” I was confused 
and heartbroken. I wasn't going anywhere. How could she tell me this? 
“No, Rose, I'm not leaving. You don't have to leave either,” I begged 
her to stay. Rose brightened up a little and took me by the hand, 
“You'll be okay, Karen. I had a lot of fun with you this summer. Don't 
ever forget me. You're a good friend.” She turned my hand over and 
placed something in it. I looked down at my hand to see what she had 
left me. It was her hair ribbon. I looked up for a better explanation 
of what was going on, but she was gone. She had disappeared into the 
night. I just didn't understand at all. I didn't know why we couldn't 
play anymore. Confused and hurt I turned around to head back towards 
the house, where I sat up all night crying. 

I spent the next week in my room, not even once attempting to go outside
and play. I was mad at Rose. If she had changed her mind and wanted to 
play with me again, then she would just have to suffer like she made me 
do. I didn't even want to try to find her house to confront her and ask 
her what the heck was going on. I wanted answers but I wanted her to 
sweat it out. She had made me mad. I heard a soft knock on my door. 
“Come in.” My mom came in and sat on the edge of my bed with a 
concerned look on her face. She knew something had not been right with 
me. “What's wrong honey?” she asked me with genuine concern, sweeping 
the hair out of my eyes and wiping my tear soaked cheeks. I explained 
to her the whole situation with Rose. I told her about the old 
condemned house, how Rose always wore the same clothes, and about how 
she said her dad was mean to her. “Well baby, some people aren't as 
fortunate as you are. Maybe she was ashamed of her father. You said she 
never had bruises so you know he didn't hit her. She's probably just 
poor and doesn't want you to see her house and is just angry because 
you tried to go in anyway. Some people are ashamed of the way they 
live, even though it's not their fault. You're a sweet girl, honey, for 
not caring about how much money she does or doesn't have. Maybe it's 
for the best anyway, Karen. I have news. It's time for us to move 
again. Your dad has been transferred to a new Army base. You'll get to 
make all new friends.” The news hit me like a ton of bricks. Even 
though I was mad at her, I didn't want to leave Rose without saying 
bye. 

Roses' house was way to far in the woods for me to remember how to get
there. I never tried to look. I just hoped she would show up at our 
rock and I could tell her good bye. Something deep inside told me that 
I wouldn't see her again. The next week we packed up our things and 
moved. I looked back towards the woods as we pulled out of the 
driveway, hoping that she would be there. She wasn't. I spent the next 
several years of my life with bitterness. I didn't want to get close to 
anyone or make new friends. I knew that as soon as I did, they would 
just be ripped out of my life like all the other ones. I didn't see any 
point in it for the longest time. I just didn't understand. 

Several years and moves later, I graduated from high school. My
bitterness slowly faded and I learned to trust people somewhat.  I 
opted to join the military so I could become a nurse. I met a great 
military man, and we married young. After being married for five years 
we had two beautiful children. Adam was our first-born and Allison came 
3 years later. As fate would have it, our first move had us stationed 
10 miles from my child hood home that had first brought me to Rose. 
Allison, being ten, was having just a hard time as I did dealing with 
the move. I told her about my situation when I was five and introduced 
the story of Rose. I showed her my ribbon that Rose had given me that I 
had been sure to keep safe over the years. She thought I was too old to 
understand and blew me off. A few months into our new place, Allison 
came home from school and asked me to help her with a school project. 
They had to do a report on the town's history and she was given the 
task to report about the fire that had occurred in 1932 that wiped out 
the whole town causing the townsmen to rebuild a bigger and stronger 
city. Everyday we spent an hour after school doing research. It was the 
last day of our research when I had gotten the biggest shock of my 
entire life that will forever be imbedded into my memory. I was looking 
through old newspaper articles while Allison did some Internet 
research, when a headline caught my eye: Family Found Dead In Their 
Home. It was a headline that would be typical in today's time, but for 
the 1930's it seemed a little off. Curious, I read the article: 

Janet Parson found her brother in law, Charles Lawson, along with his
wife and daughter, dead in their home yesterday morning. The body of 
his young wife, Sarah, was found badly beaten. She looked as if someone 
had beaten her with a heavy club of some sort.  The child's autopsy has 
revealed that she was thrown down the stairs of the basement, breaking 
her neck, killing her instantly. Interviews with Mrs. Parson have lead 
authorities to believe that Charles Lawson went mad, killing his family 
and then himself. Mr. Lawson lost his job at the mill three months ago. 
Mrs. Parson tells us that a short time after losing his job, Sarah had 
called her crying; telling her that Charles had began drinking heavily. 
Sarah called her sister on many occasions to come out to the house 
because Charles was getting physically and verbally abusive. The more 
he drank, the more abusive he got. When Sarah informed Mrs. Parson that 
he had begun being abusive to their five-year-old daughter, Rose... 

Chills ran down my spine as I read the last sentence. It couldn't be,
could it? I kept reading: 

They had made arrangements to be removed from the house at once. When
Janet arrived, she found her sister's badly battered body lying in a 
pool of blood in the living room floor. Broken dishes and furniture 
were scattered throughout the house, indicating that a struggle had 
most likely occurred. Their daughter is assumed to have been thrown 
down the stairs by Charles. Charles' body was found hanging in the 
kitchen by a rope with several scratch marks and whelps, confirming 
speculation of the struggle. Speculations lead authorities to believe 
that in an attempt to stop Sarah from leaving, he restrained his 
daughter by throwing her down the basement stairwell, breaking her 
neck, in turn killing her instantly. After unintentionally murdering 
his daughter, he went mad, letting his anger out on his wife, beating 
her to her death. He then strung himself up with a rope, tying it to a 
kitchen light fixture for support. Funeral arrangements can be found on 
page 4 under the obituaries. May God bless and keep them. 

My heart pounded and my hand trembled as I slowly turned to page four.
There she was. A picture of Rose was located above her service 
announcement. I sat there numb. The same bright-eyed girl with the pink 
ribbon in her hair was the same girl I had played with as a child. It 
all made sense to me now. I knew why I couldn't go in her house and why 
she never could come in mine. She was dead. I wrote down the cemetery 
location and we left the library hastily. I knew that even if I told my 
husband he would never believe it. I dropped my daughter off and drove 
to the Resting Hill Cemetery. I'd never been to the cemetery before, 
but I just knew where she was. I walked right to her grave. There it 
was. A small polished stone marked her grave: 

Allison Rose Lawson April 3, 1927- August 28, 1932 Our Little Rose, May
God Keep You Safe 

A small angel was lying underneath the engraving. A single freshly cut
wild red rose lay above her body. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was 
shocked and numb. I didn't know what to think or do. All those summer 
days that I had spent playing with this little girl, I was actually 
playing with a spirit of a lonely soul trying to escape her father's 
memory. She rescued me from the woods. She brought me out of my 
depression. She was there for me. She was my salvation. I smiled and 
closed my eyes and thanked her. A gentle breeze blew around me. I 
looked up and in the distance I could see a little girl in a pink dress 
smiling back at me. She waved and vanished into thin air. Still shocked 
and in disbelief at what I had just experienced, I went home and got 
the ribbon out of my box and gave it to my daughter. She wore it in her 
hair the next day to school. She came home with three new friends that 
day because the ribbon had sparked conversations that lead the girls to 
realize that they had a lot in common. I kept the secret of Rose to 
myself. No one would believe me anyway. She had always been my little 
secret. I think that's the way she wanted it to be. From time to time I 
visit her grave and update her on my life. I know she's there. She's 
always been there. I'll never forget my Rose. 


   


Authors appreciate feedback!
Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Tiffany Harrington has 1 active stories on this site.
Profile for Tiffany Harrington, incl. all stories
Email: Tiffany_92282@yahoo.com

stories in "Ghost stories"   |   all stories by "Tiffany Harrington"  






Nice Stories @ nicestories.com, support email: nice at nicestories dot com
Powered by StoryEngine v1.00 © 2000-2020 - Artware Internet Consultancy