bedtime story
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In a kingdom of roses where thorns encircled the realm, a magical princess was born, her skin as soft as petals and her touch divine. It was prophesied that the princess processed a heart so pure, that her sensitivity was divinity. Loved by all, the kingdom raised her with gentle kindness, and nourished her roots with trust and grace. She grew up strong and fierce, her brunette curls sprouting from her scalp revealing a scarlet hue in the sunlight.
One day, young Rosaline was found rolling around in the dirt, playing with the butterflies and bees. She traced the thorn of a fallen rose across her skin gently, just grazing the surface of her dermis. She was later found covered in blood and dirt, giggling at critters that crawled around her circumference. Rosaline was rushed to the family nurse and cleaned; Miraculously unscathed and smooth from her adventures outside. The room full of physicians stared at the radiant child in awe. With no scientific explanation to offer, they affirmed the prophecy as true. So long as Rosaline continued to collect sun rays with an open heart, she was able to photosynthesize miraculous regeneration.
From that day forward the princess was wrapped in silk to protect her fragile skin. Those who were in the presence of the young princess softened their hearts and were healed of all surface wounds. Beloved by the kingdom, the princess frolicked around the grounds of the land freely, embracing each stranger with her magical healing abilities.
On her sixth birthday, the Queen arranged a garden of roses to surprise the young princess on her special day. Rosaline had begun to blossom into a beautiful young woman with the open heart of a child. Her soil colored eyes reflected her inclination toward love, and nourishing the souls within the kingdom through her generosity.
The curious princess wandered around the kingdom that morning and stumbled upon her surprise being built. Behind her, she felt the calloused touch of a man. She recognized him as the humble gardener of the estate. She had seen his figure from time to time but never had such a close encounter with the man. His skin was decorated in age spots, caramelizing at his joints. His hands were bloodied and rough from planting the roses and the kisses from their unforgiving thorns.
She did not fear the blistered man, but rather wrapped her little hand around his thumb expressing gratitude for his service in the garden. Before his eyes, the rough calluses on his hands melted away revealing baby smooth skin, a new beginning. The man, upon witnessing the child’s miracle work, locked eyes on the princess. Seeing her great beauty and grace, he plucked her just like a rose, and decided to take her home.
The burly man led the young princess to the edge of the estate where she blissfully followed. Soon the sun set, painting the sky a beautiful scarlet hue, the princess looked up and grinned, thinking of the glorious roses adorning her kingdom full of love. Soon the red of roses dripped from her skin, as she was dragged through the thorn bushes by the rugged man. The princess could not see through the dark of night but felt the thorns digging their claws through her flesh.
When the man pulled her into the clearing, the delicate princess was slashed like minced meat. Her luminous silk dress violently shredded into scraps, and her once fragile skin, now decorated by bruises and scrapes extending from her face to ankles. The princess’s vision was obscured by the blood and tears in her eyes, until she slipped into a soft sleep in the man's arms. A marvelous home was revealed over the garden hedge, where the man rested Rosaline down onto a pile of scratchy potato sacks.
Dawn broke, revealing the scars of yesterday’s events. The little girl knew not of her appearance, but only the pain of her cuts, rubbing against the sandpaper-like burlap sack. The man had placed it on her body to replace her silk dress. She felt beneath the bag’s draped silhouette to feel open wounds pussing from infection.
Foreign thoughts of anxiety festered around her head like gnats. Why had she not been healed? Why had her open heart led her to such pain? Was she being used this whole time? The once open flower of Rosaline’s heart, began to wither into itself out of fear of safety. She was no longer under the warming sun rays of her kingdom, nor the fertilizing connections of her citizens. She was alone. Plucked from her environment and uprooted from the love she once knew.
She cried into the man calling out for her mother and father. As the man held her, his body continued to miraculously heal. He would not let such a rare rose leave his presence. The man momentarily left the room, and returned with a long flat sheet. He reflected the mirror at the girl, exposing her raw wounded skin. He ripped the sack off of her skin. The wet flesh that had pasted to its interior beginning to scab was peeled off, revealing oozing wounds and raw skin.
“Your mother and father won’t want such a disfigured disgrace. They only loved their soft skinned princess, and she is gone. Stay here in my garden where the flowers and bugs will embrace you all the same”
The stolen princess remembered all of the kingdom praising her for her delicate skin. She felt the ache in her soul as she realized she would never bring such joy to the citizens again. And for that, she hated the world. What fate had given her. Hideous skin and pain blanketing her body. She thought of the rose thorns that bit through her flesh, taking away the only true love she had known. So much sadness. So much hate. The young princess began to desensitize her expansive heart to cope with the pain. She covered all of the mirrors in the home to avoid the shock of her demented reflection. Each morning she put layers upon layers of scratchy fabric to conceal her skin. She refused the softer materials because they could not hide her scars. Each layer of fabric she put on irritated and ripped at her fragile skin, yet she felt content knowing others could not gaze upon her past glory.
From that day forward, the princess would stay in the home, recycling stale breath, waiting for the man to come back from work to heal his hands. On days when the princess felt compelled to explore, she would visit the beautiful garden the man had built in the yard of his home. The garden bloomed with bountiful assortments of lilies, daisies, baby’s breath, lavender, and tulips. Every flower she could imagine apart from the flowers of her country. She was glad that she didn’t have the reminder of home haunting her, for she knew that she could never return as she was.
Years passed, and the princess had grown isolated and lost. She had not changed her clothes in months due to the recurring trauma of seeing her scars. And though she had not seen a mirror in years, her face delicately matured with flushed lips and protruding cheek bones that paralleled her mothers.
The disappointment of her appearance was an understatement to the pain she felt within. She craved a friend, someone to confirm that she even existed at all. The princess desperately went to the garden looking for a companion.
The butterflies she felt were too beautiful to befriend her, so she paid them no mind. The squirrels and the chipmunks were too self absorbed looking for the next nut. The spiders she could not trust, always spinning lies within their webs. The garden felt like a hopeless environment for finding a friend, so the princess sat down in the dirt and began to dig. What began as digging became rage. Rosaline began unrooting the flowers, ripping out their beauty as if she could avenge her own.
Suddenly, out from the depths of the dirt, emerged a small worm.
“Why are you ruining my home?” He asked innocently.
“Because I can’t return to mine. Because I can never return to the beauty I once had. Because it hurts and I don’t want to feel this pain alone. Because I feel, I feel it all too much all at once. Because I want to heal others but I can’t even heal myself”
The princess sobbed openly to the worm about the depths of her aching heart.
“But you are beautiful” Questioned the worm.
The princess ignored him and went back to her room to cry, not realizing the worm had followed. He stayed with the princess through her sorrow, whispering sweet words and affirmations. Though she did not realize it, her skin began to soften through the loving intent of a friend.
Days went by and the princess had not left her bed. Meanwhile, the worm was busy at work, collecting materials and crafting his art. The girl wandered into the garden one day and before her lay a magnificent gown, pastel pink, embroidered with flowers and gems woven into the silk fabric. She had not seen silk in years. The princess had grown accustomed to the scratch of the rough fabric the man had given her.
The worm appeared from the grass telling the princess to put it on.
“I built this dress from my own silk woven with love. I may not have your ability to miraculously heal you, but I will do my best in time. It would be an honor to see you in this dress. You deserve to realize your beauty within is infectious without. No one will see you but me, I promise” he said with ease.
The princess felt an intuition of trust for the worm and began removing her clothes. As she did so, her eyes widened as fresh rosy skin was revealed. Slipping on the dress, she felt the sweet spring breeze whisk across her smooth skin, and it was all just as she remembered. She kneeled down in the grass and picked up the worm to thank him for all he had done.
“Thank you for healing me, and for this beautiful dress. You gave me back my beauty”
The worm shook his thorax and smiled.
“This dress was made so that I could extend my gratitude to you for healing me! That day in the field, seeing such raw emotion and beauty reminded me of what it meant to live in this world. The pain and fragility of it all. Each tear you shed was the liquid emotion I haven’t been able to express. That sensitivity is a gift, truly.”
The princess smiled, remembering what she was put on this world to do. She didn’t need magic or smooth skin to heal, and she had every tool she needed within her: her sensitive heart.
The man returned home that day with his hands apathetically stretched out, awaiting for his daily healing. Rosaline ducked beneath his arms and pulled him in close for a hug. She pressed her gentle breast against the man’s rib cage and hummed a song of forgiveness. In the depths of her heart, she wished the man could realize his inner strength and ability to heal. She pulled away revealing a glowing smile on the man’s caramel skin.
“I can no longer stay, but I will be within you always.” Rosaline whispered within the inner shell of his ear.
The man nodded in agreement. He knew that he had begun to love the girl over the years of their journey together. He felt guilty that when he plucked her away from her garden, he was a bystander to watch her heart wither away. When you love a flower you let it be. He wanted to watch her grow. The man forged a path through the fortress of thorns, creating a connection between his garden and the kingdom’s estate. He watched as her dark curls swayed in the distance, and she skipped back to her home. He did not know if she would be back, but he was overfilled with joy for being blessed by her healing presence.
Rosaline continued to return to the man’s garden. Though she was satisfied with her life reborn into the kingdom, she found solace in spending time with the man. He taught her betrayal, but he also taught her forgiveness and grace. She frolicked in the garden with the silkworm, where they dreamed of dress silhouettes and continued their friendship. He had taught her beauty and love without condition, and expanded the capacity of love she was able to have for herself and others.
Each day she returned, she planted roses around the man’s house. To remind him of her presence, and to remind herself that she is resilient and can always grow an open heart regardless of her environment.
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