Rosa Damascena, Jory
It is 5:00 am. She passed away a second ago. Mother goes to wake her up, but no answer. Daughter, daughter, Jory she called with no use. Mother broke down in a trauma. Everyone knows now that the 2o years old girl died that fast and simple without any prior alarms!
It is 2:00 pm. They buried her. In funeral, people saw each other. Some never had seen each other before. Some were too away from one another. They at last gathered that day. It is 3:00 pm. They go back again to their usual life.
Days and months passed, corpse started to dissolve. Some worms get out seeking their mission. Years passed now she is only dust. Near her tomb grows a tiny shy bud, extracts her life from the girl’s dust and mixed with her. After days the bud becomes a blooming rose, Rosa Damascena. Jory relives again in the petals of that rose and her life goes on no matter how.
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