Author's Notes:  I wrote this about 6 years ago (1994-1995) as a parable.  I know it's not really a parable, but it's still a good story to explain how I started using "Darkrose" online.  Most of this is true, just umm..embelished a bit..like most of my fiction is.  Anyways, I recently ran across it, and I feel it's good enough to post, so here it is.....

A long time ago, there lived a man who had a rose that he wore on his jacket. He wasn’t a special man, but he did have a wonderful woman, a lovely outlook on life, and a beautiful smile.

The rose, however, was a special rose. It was a mood rose in the sense that it changed appearance based upon the mood of its owner. When he was happy, the rose shone brightly, almost magically. When he was sad, it turned dark, and withered, like a dried, dead rose.

One day, the man was walking through Five Points and he saw a beautiful woman he knew from his high school days. Her name was Anne. She taught him many things about himself, and he had not seen her in quite some time. The rose glowed a fierce red.

She commented, “You must be happy to see me, your rose is quite red today, my friend”.

“I am” he said, and sat down at the outside café next to her.

They talked about many things, about life, and the old days. He was happy.

That night, he got a phone call from his girlfriend, who had found out that he stopped to talk to Anne.

“I told you I didn’t like her”, she said. “I told you not to talk to her! I heard your rose was shining quite red! Your rose doesn’t shine that red for me!”

“But we’re friends” he said. “I don’t see the harm in merely talking to someone! My rose merely showed her I was happy to see her!”

The rose grew dark. The man's beautiful smile turned into a frown.

Two days later, the man’s girlfriend broke up with him, and he was sad. The rose turned black, and began shedding its dead petals. He cried out for her, begging her to stay, because all that was good in his life was gone. She declined to speak to him when he called.

Some weeks later, the rose was little more than a few burnt petals, clinging to a dry, greenish-gray stalk. It stayed that way, mostly, occasionally growing petals when he was in the company of friends and those he cared about.

But alas, the rose was dark most of the time.

One day, he met a woman named Amy, whom with he felt good again. The rose began growing back its petals, and shone brightly, however it was a different shine now.

The rose no longer shone bright red, rather a smoky black red, much like that of a dead rose.

His lovely Amy tried to pick through the petals, to see what was under it, and sure enough, the rose shown through with the wonderful red he loved to see.

“What a beautiful dark rose you have there”, she said.

..and that is how the Dark Rose came to be.

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