By Giséle Anagnost, TIWP Student

I pull the hood over my face, welcoming the pain, as I reach for that red rose, ever so beautiful, yet deadly.

That beautiful rose is like a bomb, ticking away until he is lost forever.

Lost, to the curse.

His pointed, bright teeth shine in the moonlight. I know that he is dangerous, but I don’t care.

As I move forward, the pointed teeth, sharp claws, and menacing figure start to melt away.

The disguise that once kept him trapped is now gone, the curse now broken.

As the rose’s final petals fall away, we hold our breaths and wait… and as the time ticks by, we can finally rest assured.