A bright sun yellow daffodil would open its petals and welcome me to taste. But then there is the radiant blue violet crying for my attention, the dar... petals dancing in the breeze hypnotizing me to take landing. I wouldn’t give in though. My choice would be the splendid rose, a clichéd red one. Vivid like the cheeks of the blushing bride as she offers herself to the groom on her wedding night, would be where I would feast. The rose, the place of such beautiful aroma, the bouquet enough to put. He tried to get up from the bed and very hardly could only mutter the word, ‘You’. He was almost held down by the invisible chains and bonds. The woman looked at him. She was still in the same skin tight black dress which she had worn when she came to the confessional with him that afternoon. She looked still delicious and beautiful but there was something undeniably very evil and inhuman about her now. O’ yes, her eyes were little too bright and even her smell was too knowing type. Father. More

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