Hey! Guess What? I transformed my one page story (from last year) into SEVEN PAGES! Wanna read it? It's right here!

Rosemary




Waking up from a brilliantly adventurous dream, Rosemary’s sea-green eyes opened and the first thing in her sight was Ivy , the gorgeous white wolf. She stroked the head and ear of the sleeping beauty and tried to remember what it was like to have parents. Her parents were murdered for an unknown reason when she was an infant, and she was left in their abandoned, empty cottage. Snooping around for food, a pack of wolves sniffed down this baby girl with a beautiful mesmerizing aroma. Sorrel, the rufous alpha male, curiously buried his nose in the blankets covering the babe. He breathed in the strange aroma, and he somehow became overwhelmed with a flood of long lost memories. As he stood there sniffing, the child reached out her hand and pet the snout of the beast. Sorrel jumped back in shock and started snarling. His beautiful mate, Ivy, pushed him aside so she herself could see this alien. Ivy was frightened at the first touch, but then she leaned in so the tiny hand could stroke and play with the beautiful white fur. The mother from experience sensed that the child was abandoned, so the lovers and the whole pack all agreed to care for the human child. Ivy picked Rosemary up by the tiny little shirt and took her to the den. The others sniffed and followed her curiously and experienced the same phenomenon Sorrel went through. As this baby grew older, the wolves cared for her, taught her to hunt and howl, and they became her family.

Lying on the cool stone cave floor, she stood up and Ivy awoke. She first realized that Rosemary’s golden locks were no longer blanketing her, then noticed that something was bothering her. She sat upright and yawned. Her massive ivory fangs glistened in the light of the morning sunrise. She tilted her head and asked the eighteen-year- old in wolf language, “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Rosemary squat down next to her. “Well, all you have ever told me about my parents is that they got in an accident and that’s how they died when I was young. I want to ask the people what happened if you’re not going to tell me. You also won’t ever let me talk to the villagers or any person, so that is another thing I set out to do, RIGHT NOW!” She quickly jumped up to her feet and ran and jumped over the shrubs and rocks around the cave toward the village. “Rosemary! This will only turn out bad!” The canine barked with warning. Rosemary ran and leaped like a doe, and her deerskin clothes clung tightly and aided to her speed Her callused feet ran over the mountainous terrain with ease. She rapidly darted past the trees and boulders and down steep slopes. She stopped at the edge of a cliff looking over the mountain villages and castle. An uplifting updraft of air tickled her face and blew through her hair. Then she spotted a baby bird on a tiny ledge under a pine’s branches over the edge of a cliff, and she kneeled and stretched to try and pick it up. When she finally placed the puffball in its nest, she stepped on a loose rock and came tumbling down the cliff and through the thatched roof of a cottage. She lay unconscious on a wool rug in the middle of the cottage, and the owner, Lathyrus, fell off the bed out of surprise. The young man (the same age of Rosemary) kneeled down to the maiden and swept off her golden locks from her face to see that her eyes were closed.

He stroked her rosy cheeks and her hair, and that mysterious intoxicating smell consumed his hand. He put his hand to his nose to smell the invigorating scent, but felt something wet. He realized it was blood, and it was coming from the back of Rosemary’s head. He widened his eyes in astonishment and kicked his door open with the lady in his arms. “Kileme! Kileme!” he called the medicine woman’s name. He was running through the town despite the fact he was only wearing his under drawers, and people’s expressions towards him were sure entertaining. The door to her house (which was but a few miles from the castle courtyard) flew open and she received Rosemary. “Nice clothes.” she flirtatiously yet teasingly remarked as she looked him over. “Thanks.” he sarcastically mumbled. The two took the unconscious maiden into the cluttered room. The room was dim with one central lantern and candles on the furniture. Herbs, medicinal tools, and linens lay scattered about the floor and hard surfaces in the stuffy room. Kileme lay Rosemary on the bed under the swinging lantern, and she quickly started dipping cloth in the bucket of water and dabbing her wounds. She grabbed one of her poultices and gently rubbed the cooling paste into the blemishes. She wrapped the top of Rosemary’s head in linen and handed a basket full of bottles and jars to Lathyrus. “Treat her with these for three days, and then she will slowly wake up from her coma. She will be fine.” she smiled. “Where’d she come from anyways?” “I don’t know. She just suddenly dropped through my roof a few minutes ago and woke me up. Can you explain her beautiful, rather, intoxicating aroma?” he questioned, and she shook her head. Lathyrus shrugged and went on his way home nearly naked and his arms full.

Following Kileme’s instructions, Lathyrus tended to the sleeping beauty, wondering what kind of person she was, how she ended up dropping through his roof, where she came from, and why she smelled as wonderful as she did. He gave up his bed to her and slept on a fleece spread on the floor. When he noticed Rosemary stirring, he kneeled at her side and watched her open her eyes. Rosemary woke up in a daze and everything was vague. When everything came into focus, she noticed that the right side of the bed was sunken in. She turned her head to face a handsome young man with icy blue eyes and short, wavy auburn hair. He was resting his head on the side of the bed with his hands supporting his head and his elbows sticking into the mattress. He lifted his head when she looked at him and he nervously smiled and blushed. He opened his mouth to speak and only quietly mumbled,”H-h...hello...”. Then when he built a little more courage to speak, he said,”Well, um...I’m....uh...L-L-L-Lathyrus. Lathyrus Dianthus. And you are?” She lightly groaned out of pain and weariness, then drew on her breath to form words. “Rosemary...Coronarium.” she heaved, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but if you’d like, you can come along with me into town.” He smiled, then stood up and walked across his floor barefoot. When he stepped on a crack where a small amount of earth peeked through, a green stem shot up from the ground before Rosemary’s eyes. It shot up a few more inches and rapidly grew leaves. Then soft red petals grew on top of each other and enveloped the flower’s ovary and stamen.

With wide eyes she asked, “How did you....what did you...huh?” Putting on his shirt, he turned around and said, “Oh! That’s a....um...me. That’s a Dianthus. I call it a ‘me’ because it comes from me, somehow. If I step on soil or grass with my right barefoot, that flower, a Dianthus, or as I call it, a ‘carnation’, grows. With my left foot, a Lathyrus, or ‘sweet pea’, grows. I have no idea how this possibly happens, but I was supposedly born with it, and many people, including the king, keep paying me to make them flowers and herbals from my feet flowers. Strange, isn’t it? But...how is it you have that amazing smell that won’t disappear, and why is it that the blood that I saw drop grew into a green, somewhat spiny plant with little blue flowers and smelled like you?” She pondered for a bit, trying to remember why exactly she was so strange. “I...think I have a similar scenario as you, but the smell comes from my perspiration and the blood thing...I don’t know. But I do know that I was born like this, and that it may have something to do with why my parents were killed when I was an infant. I call the plant a ‘me’, too; a rosemary.” “Well, um...where did you come from, and how did you manage to just drop through my roof?” he asked. Rosemary told her life story, the reason why she came to the village, and the incident that brought her through Lathyrus’s roof. “Do you, or anyone here, know what happened to my parents?” “I’m sorry, but I have no idea. I may be as stupid as a rock, but hey! I think I might have an idea whom does know what happened!” he smiled and helped her up from the bed. “Um...eh...err...”, he expressed as he noticed a rip in the top of the deerskin. He embarrassedly blushed and pointed it out to her. “If you’d like, you can wear some of my clothes, though they may look boring, dirty, and stupid.” He turned away, plucking the carnation’s petals while he waited for Rosemary to dress. “Are you done?”he asked, and was afraid to turn around yet. She walked in front of him with leather boots, black pants, and a long sleeved white shirt that was somewhat puffed and ruffled at the edges. He smiled, and held her hand as he escorted her out. He held her hand the whole way, and then when they made it to the castle and were helped inside, she suddenly pulled her hand away. “What’s wrong?” he asked with concern. “I sense...death nearby.” she said in a tone that sent shivers down his spine.

“What do you mean?” She suddenly sprinted towards the king’s throne, and Lathyrus ran after her. Surprising the king in his royal red satin robe, she said, “Get out of here! NOW!” she pulled the king and queen’s hands and yanked them out of the throne room. She stopped and told them to turn around and look at their thrones. The golden seats were smashed with a collapse in the ceiling, and all of them stood there in awe. “Now, young lady, that was an incredible feat of yours! How did you know? Why did you come here?” the king said in amazement. “Well, I came here with Lathyrus to find out about my parents, but then my...wild instinct told me to help you two.” “Well, congratulations, malady! You have just earned the king’s honor, a room in his palace, and a well working job!” then he turned to Lathyrus, and back to Rosemary, saying, “You’re lover can have a room here, too, if you please!” the two looked at each other and blushed, and then she nodded. “Very well then! I can take you to Ambrosia! He probably knows what happened to your parents, and make yourselves at home here now! Soon I will announce to everyone about the great news!”

The king waved his arm at the door they were to enter, and so they knocked. “Who is it?”
a scruffy masculine voice responded. “It is...um...Rosemary Coronarium and Lathyrus Dianthus.
Rosemary would like to know about her parents’ death.” Lathyrus said. The door was pulled open, and a tall man with scruffy dirty blonde hair, stubble, wide shoulders, and a tight black shirt smiled with his wide mouth. “Come in!” he assured, and the two walked in nervously.
“I record the deaths of this town and I am also a prisoner executioner. Let’s see if we can find the source of your parents’ death.” he shuffled through many papers and obituaries, then stopped at a page with several scribbles and rips amongst the calligraphy. “Ah, here we are! Are you ready to hear the news? It may bother you...” he warned. “I’ve been waiting far too long to hear something about my parents’ death, and I don’t care how gruesome it is! I must know, and I won’t go another moment without having at least a small idea!” “Very well then. They were kidnapped and tortured to death by a cruel man whom specializes in creating different iron maidens and torture mechanisms.” Then Ambrosia awkwardly leaned forward to smell Rosemary, then continued, “Their death had something to do with you, I think. I believe the man wanted to take you and do horrible things with you. He also wanted to use you to slaughter and sell merchandise from your blood, but we caught him and I beheaded him. How could anyone so perverted want to hurt something as precious as you?” she blushed, and Lathyrus stiffened a little with jealously.
Lathyrus stood up and plainly stated, “Thank you. We’ll be going now.”, and he held a blank expression. Rosemary raised an eyebrow, then smiled and waved. “Goodbye. Please come visit often.” the massive man smiled his monstrous smile.

As soon as they left the castle, Lathyrus let out his breath as if he was under water the whole time they spoke with Ambrosia. Lathyrus walked beside Rosemary with concern, and looked at her and wondered if he could lose her or if she ever felt for him in the first place. Rosemary was hardly thinking of anything at all, and she had her head turning as often as a bird’s. It appeared to Lathyrus that Rosemary was no longer on planet Earth, and she just was looking at everything with curiosity, sometimes just oddly stopping and spacing out. Suddenly, she noticed a lady crying, and ran to her to comfort her. She gave such sweet, comforting words and advice that the lady couldn’t help but share with others about the wonderful smelling psychiatrist. Soon she became a popular psychiatrist of the town, and people would ignore and push Lathyrus off to the side. She helped with some childcare, medical attention, hunting, livestock tending, crop tending, and other things, and in her spare time, she would talk to Lathyrus, ask him questions, ask him to join her, and tickle him.

One time, a farmer needed his pigs to be fed, and both of the youths volunteered. Both looked at each other and grinned. “I’ll race you to bring the slop to the swine! I bet I can beat you!” Lathyrus challenged. “I’ve been racing speedy wolves for a long time, so surely I can outrun you!” she smirked. “Yeah...of course! I’ve always been the fastest in town!” he added, and the farmer handed each teen a bucket of slop. “Ready?” he raised a rag, then pulled it down fast on his cue of, “GO!” The two both began with a quick acceleration, laughing and trying to push one another into bushes, people, animals, wood piles, or fences. Rosemary was ahead of Lathyrus, but then he pulled her hair and put her behind him. She pulled his shirt and pushed him down, and the two kept laughing and continuing to do such bratty tricks to each other as they neared closer to the pig pen. As they were both jumping over the gate of the pig pen, Rosemary slipped on slick mud and her leg knocked into Lathyrus. His shoes slid off on the fence, and her knee scraped against the wood so that blood started to surface. The two splatted face down into the soupy mud, and their buckets flew into the air. The two kneeled and faced each other, and mud and slop poured and showered them and the hungry pigs. Lathyrus grabbed slop from his cheek and mud from his ears and hurled them at Rosemary. As it splat at her mud masked face, she mischievously smiled and returned a similar gift to Lathyrus. The two continued the humorous quarrel, and Rosemary’s blood that dripped from her knee formed into rosemary and when Lathyrus sunk his feet in the mud, up came sweet peas and carnations.


People witnessing the “fight” were amazed to see this miracle, and soon there was another reason for the couple to be admired and popular. Lathyrus started selling his plants for him and Rosemary, then also started selling some for the king. The flowers became symbols of love and other things, and once Kileme found how to use them, she taught everyone of the medicinal and herbal properties of the plants. Rosemary rarely sold any because she would definitely prefer to not make herself bleed just to get plants and money. Kileme did a similar thing with rosemary, but pointed out the sinus clearing magic and memory strengthening power as even more treasured and special. Therefore, whenever rosemary plants were sold, they were sold at an even more expensive price. The two brought the city a strange life and a sudden economic boom and prosperity. The king now grew extra honored to house such an amazing lively duo, and the two just grew closer.

One night, Lathyrus professed to tell Rosemary that he loved her, so he told her that he wanted to have a conversation with her at night by the courtyard’s garden pond. He dressed in fine clothes and brought with him a bouquet of sweet peas and carnations. He walked up the marble stairs to her room and knocked on her door. When she opened, a gold, white, and emerald gown was draped about her and stunned the nervous lad. As they walked through the moonlit English garden to the pond, Lathyrus held her hand once again, and they sat on a bench. He handed the bouquet to her, and pulled out one carnations for himself. He sat, nervously looking down, swinging his feet like a child, and pulling petals from the carnation, one-by-one. “Rosemary, I’ve been wanting to...tell you my feelings for you, but...I’m afraid that you might not feel the same about me. So, I wanted to know if you lo....um...if you lo....” he widened his eyes as he continued looking down, mortified at how his jaw locked from speaking and he messed up the whole thing. She lifted his chin so he was looking into her eyes, and she calmly said, “If I love you?” she smiled. “Well, um....” his voice trailed off as their faces started to near closer to each others’, and right before they kissed, Rosemary suddenly jerked back her head and widened her eyes.

“What?” he anxiously asked. “Someone...is trying again. This time they’re coming toward Ambrosia’s chamber, and...I think we should go check on him.” The two rushed into the massive hall and hid behind a pillar that was near Ambrosia’s chamber. They noticed an ominous dark figure with a shiny saber nearing toward Ambrosia’s door, and the two suddenly started yelling, “Ambrosia! Wake up! Someone is here to kill you!” The creepy figure turned its head in the terrified teens’ direction, and Ambrosia quickly opened his door, a rapier in his left hand. He ran the figure through with his sword, and pulled it out, disgusted that his precious weapon was dirty again. Rosemary and Lathyrus ran toward Ambrosia with concern, and he grabbed Rosemary and kissed her. As he squeezed her, he complimented, “Oh, my lovely Rosemary! I’m forever grateful for your animal-like instincts! You gorgeous flower, I love you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he kissed her several more times, and Lathyrus stood tense, red, and flaming with fury. He pulled Rosemary from Ambrosia’s arms, hugged her, then let go of her. “You leave her alone. She loves me! I can’t let you take her from me! She is all that I love and treasure, and I can’t let you take her if she’s taken! Stay away from her, or so help me...I’ll....”, he was boiling, and stopping just as though he were to explode. “...let’s just say you’ll regret ever talking to her or looking at her ever again!”


He stormed towards his room, and Rosemary stopped him, frightened. She told him that she was worried about her “family” wondering where she was, and that she planned to go see them the next morning. She gave him descriptions of where the wolf cave was, and asked him to meet her there around noon. He cooled down and calmly agreed to her request. The next morning, she greeted her beloved wolf “family” and told them about all of the happenings. They all sat there, excited to see this young man, but started to worry once it was noon and he still hadn’t shown up. An hour passed after noon, and Rosemary started to think the worst of what happened to him. When she started pacing, she turned to see a nearly naked young man with blood painted amongst his body and blood soaking his auburn hair. He was kneeled at the feet of Rosemary, shivering and crying softly. When she lifted his chin to see whom he was, she was looking into familiar icy blue eyes and realized it was Lathyrus. Her heart dropped and she almost forgot to breathe. “What happened?! Are you okay?!” she demanded with terror. “A man...he was trying to kill me with these weird iron maidens and other torture things. There were bodies, bones, and blood everywhere, and....” his voice faded into a faint whimper. “Well, could you tell whom he was?” “No...he wore a spiky mask. He was tall like Ambrosia, and I barely escaped.....just barely.....”, he whispered, and started coughing blood. “Lathyrus!!” she cried, then he went unconscious. Tears started to drip down her cheeks, and she placed the bloody body on the bed of wolves.

She cared for him and slept next to him every night, even if she went without food or water. She was determined to see his eyes open up once again and his lungs taking full breaths.
When he woke up, she kneeled over him, rubbed rosemary against him, and said, “You took care of me when I was helpless and weak, and now it’s your turn to be cared for.” They smiled at each other, and within a few days, Lathyrus was healed and refreshed. “Rosemary,” he began once he was well, “I can’t take it!” he took a carnation and her hand, and kneeled down. “Will you marry me?” he begged. “Silly boy! What kind of question is that?! Of COURSE!” They embraced and kissed for the first time. She turned to Ivy and Sorrel, and they assured her that she had their blessing. “We’ll come back up here! I promise!” Rosemary swore, and had the entire pack attack with their lick machine tongues. The two made it into the town where they announced their proud engagement, and even Ambrosia was at the excited gathering. “Ambrosia, may we talk with you for a bit?” Lathyrus took him aside. They went into the courtyard garden and sat on the very bench where Lathyrus and Rosemary had almost kissed that one night. “I am extremely sorry we never expressed of what a great support you have been to us and our knowledge, and I apologize for being so harsh that one night.” he apologized. “All right...thank you.” he half-heartedly forgave him, and he leaned against an angel statue. The statue pushed over, and the ground under Rosemary and Lathyrus on the bench opened up and swallowed them. Ambrosia jumped in after them, then chuckled.

They slid off the bench into some goop, and the bench was caught by this strange iron maiden/guillotine mixed death machine and turned the thick stone to sand. “If you must know, the man that killed your parents was my father, and he tortured me and forced me to inherit this secret torturing fortress. My full name is Ambrosia Acanthicarpa, and I must admit how sorry I feel for you two. Rosemary, if you really loved me, you would have pushed this stupid idiot aside and come running to me, but it is far too late. As for you, Lathyrus, I was that man with the spiked face, and I thought that maybe if I got rid of you, maybe I could have Rosemary. Too bad you had to live, you good for nothing. Now if I can’t have Rosemary and she doesn’t love me because of you, then I decided to be kind and kill you both so you can die together. I guess it’s too late too apologize, isn’t it?” the deep, seemingly demonic voice explained. “You know I love you, Rosemary. May you go with God and may we see each other again.” the two smiled, teary eyed, and kissed one last time. Their lives ended with spiked boulders coming from all angles, and the evil man took there bodies up and claimed they were mauled by wolves. When they were buried, rosemary took root among Rosemary’s grave (which means “remembrance” and a sweet pea (meaning “lasting blissful pleasure/departure/goodbye” and a red carnation ( meaning “my heart aches for you/admiration/love/friendship/bravery/alas for my poor heart!” grew upon Lathyrus’s grave. After the king discovered the truth, Ambrosia Acanthicarpa was beheaded and a tumbleweed grew upon his grave, which is exactly what his name means. His nasty plant continues to spread like a disease and imitate some of the many disgusting killing machines he always had a passion for.








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