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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Other · #1387610
My name is Rose. 1998
My name is Rose

Violet was a sweet girl. She lived in Margate and was married to a man who fucked her daily with a knife. Every day she baked him a salted fish pie and sat with him whilst he counted his money. One day when the wind was blowing and he was counting his money a note flew from the table and landed by the leg of the old chair. The next day when violet was washing the floor she found the note and tucked it into her shoe. Later that morning Violet left the house to visit the fish market, on her way she passed an old woman selling roses. Violet reached down into her shoe, pulled out the note and gave it to the old woman who in return gave her twelve of her finest roses. That afternoon when Violet got home she took the roses and carefully removed all the thorns before baking her husbands pie. That evening her husband returned as usual. Violet placed the pie on the table and waited. As violet’s husband bit into the pie a thorn lodged itself in his throat and he bled rather slowly to his death. Violet cleaned up the pie and changed her name to Rose.
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