A Rose For Colin

This was written in response to a contest - The Black and Yellow Write Away. The promt was "Your short story or poem begins at a movie theater. A character in your story is an artist, and an object to include is a rose." As usual, I was too late to enter the contest, but I liked the idea so here is the finished story.

Thank you Squeak for the inspiration


Colin sat in the darkness and silently repeated the dialogue along with the actors. When the words “The End” appeared on the screen, the house lights came on and the illusion was gone. He was no longer surrounded by another time, another place. Everything about the old theatre was faded and worn. While the meager audience silently shuffled up the aisle, Colin read every line of the ending credits. When the screen faded to black, he reluctantly stood up and picked up his coat from the seat next to him. As he slowly walked towards the exit, the threadbare carpet beneath his feet made him realize people just didn’t understand that movies were meant to be seen on a bigger-than-life movie screen, even old black and white ones.

Colin stopped in the lobby and slipped on his coat before he stepped outside. It had been snowing while he was in the theatre and the sidewalk was coated with a thin layer of white. The mounds of snow that had accumulated along the curbs and at the foot of the buildings were no longer brown from the city’s grime but now sparkled with the fresh new coat of snow. Colin began to walk the few blocks to his small apartment as the streetlights began to glow. One of the streetlights he passed was not working properly and rather than sending out a yellow glow, the light was focused into a single beam aimed at the ground. Colin’s eyes followed the beam to where it ended at the corner of a building. There in the snow lay the most perfect red rose Colin had ever seen.

He looked around, but no one seemed to notice him or the rose so he walked over to it and bent down to carefully pick up the single blossom. It was if the flower had just been picked. Its petals had barely begun to spread. He brought it closer to his face so he could see it better and the scent of the rose floated in the air. How could something this lovely survive in this city? He suddenly felt the need to protect this lonely bud and he held it gently in his gloved hand as he rushed home. As he hurried down the street, the malfunctioning street lamp sizzled and sparked in the cold, evening air. It went out for a moment then flickered and came back on, putting a soft glow into the air.

Colin switched on the overhead light as he shut the door behind him. The bare bulb spread its harsh light throughout the tiny, sparsely furnished apartment. A small bed filled one side of the room, an old wooden table and chair sat in the center and a meager kitchen area was at the other side. Colin picked up a glass from the cracked counter next to the stained sink and carefully put the rose in the glass. The thick stem proudly held the rose a few inches above the rim. He set the glass on the table then took off his coat and gloves and dropped them on the chair.

He purposely took a few small steps across the room and pulled an easel from the shadows. Against the wall were several half finished canvases and he began to sort through them. When he found an empty one, he set it on the easel. Next he walked over to the bed and knelt down on the floor. With a sigh, he pulled his worn and faded leather case from under the bed and carefully set it on the mattress. He slowly undid the clasps and opened the case to reveal the paints and brushes that were so dear to him. The smell of paint wafted up from the opened case and he ran his fingers across the tubes lovingly then glanced back at the rose.

The flower still held its head proudly above the rim of the glass. As he stood up, a dissatisfied frown crossed his face. It was wrong. He took the rose from the glass and set it down on the scarred and discolored table. A single thorn protruded about midway on the flower's slightly curved stem along with a single leaf. Colin studied the rose for a while then looked around the room. The pillow on his bed caught his eye. It was old and a bit lumpy, but the case was clean and white. He smiled as he took the pillow to the table and carefully set the rose on the pillow. He stepped back and the overhead light cast a soft stream of yellow light on the spot where the rose lay.

Now he could begin to paint. The strokes came easy. It had been a long time since he felt like this and as he worked through the night, the rose began to appear on the canvas.

A few days later, “The Rose” was sitting prominently in the window of a tiny used bookstore. Colin looked at his painting for a few seconds before entering the store. As soon as he stepped through the doorway, a young woman came from behind the cash register.

“Oh, Colin, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said excitedly as she rushed up to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s wonderful! A man was here this morning and he wants to buy your painting.”

“What?”

“And he wants to see more. He has a gallery in the city. He is interested in showing your work.”

“What’s his name?”

“He gave me his card. You have to call him right away.” She continued to rattle on as she retrieved the card and gave it to Colin while he just listened, somewhat in shock.

Outside, an elderly man had stopped seemingly to look at the painting. He was tall and thin and he was wearing a long, black leather coat. He had glanced at the painting, but he was actually looking into the store and watching Colin and the young woman. He saw her hand the card to Colin and he could see the dazed look on Colin’s face. The man smiled then turned and began to walk down the sidewalk.

The street was not busy. It was still early and most of the little shops had not yet begun to open. Plus, this was an older part of the city and didn’t get the traffic that it did many years ago.

He saw the young girl as she stood in the sheltered doorway of a shop that had not yet opened. She seemed to cower in the shadows. Dark circles under her eyes accentuated her wide-eyed stare as she watched the street.

The man began to walk slower as he approached the store where she stood and he reached into the inside pocket of his coat. He saw the shop owner arrive and watched the girl step out of the doorway. The old man quietly stepped up behind her. The backpack she was wearing was only partially closed and she was not aware of his presence as he pulled a single red rose from his pocket and slipped the stem through the opening of her backpack. When he sidestepped to move around her, she was momentarily startled, but he continued down the sidewalk without even looking at her.

The shop owner asked if she was waiting to come into the store and she shook her head then walked away to find another place to stop for a while.

Renee had only gone a couple of blocks when she came to a bus stop and she decided to sit down on the empty bench. She was tired and hungry and she had lost the small suitcase she had packed so carefully the night she left home. When she removed the backpack so she could lean back against the bench, she saw the rose. Startled, she quickly looked around but there was no one anywhere near her. She took the rose out hesitantly. It was nearly perfect and it smelled wonderful. The scent of the rose suddenly made her mind flood with memories.

Her mother loved roses. The front and back yard always had dozens of plants in a myriad of colors and her mother was always doing something to those roses. Renee couldn’t remember what they had argued about, but she suddenly felt overwhelmingly alone. She continued to stare at the rose for several minutes then she reached into a pocket and took out a handful of change. Across the street was an empty phone booth. She slowly stood up and took that long walk across the street. As she closed the door to the phone booth behind her, she was relieved to find that the phone appeared to be in working condition. Her hand shook slightly as she dropped the coins into the slot and pushed the buttons.

“Mom?” she said when the woman answered on the other end.

Several blocks away the man in the long black coat smiled.