Once upon a time, in an enchanted forest full of beautiful
weeping trees, roses of every color, the most rare and delicate
flowers, lived a man and a woman who were deeply in love. They
lived in a small house the man built himself when they were just
seventeen. It was painted white with big windows and a
wraparound porch. Just has she had dreamed of. The man loved her
so much; he brought her a white rose freshly picked from a
nearby field every day in the afternoon when they would sit
together for tea and freshly baked biscuits. Every day. But one
day he came home to her, to give her the rose, and found her
dead on the floor, her blood surrounding her, staining her white
dress and blond hair. The rose fell to the ground staining
itself red in her blood. For days he laid next to her staining
his cloths red in her blood and cried. He promised her he would
never leave her side. After a while he laid her in a pile of
wood with a white rose in her delicate hands and set her on
fire. He stood and stared. Stood and