Ok so here is a little something I came up with while listening to Annie Lennox's Love Song For A Vampire however this will be my last story posted on here, I'm going to take a break from posting for a while and gather my emotions, I'm really tired of people being mean and hateful because they don't like what I write. Seeing as I am very emotionally and I have a very low option of my writing as it is, it would be best if I step away for a while before I lose the will to write completely. So *insert sarcasm* I have to remember that as a writer I am not entitled to feelings but anonymous reviewers are.

Disclaimer- you know the drill

Warnings- not been beta.

There is a legend among the people of a small little planet about woman and a grave marked only by a single red rose.

When the grave was fresh and the legend was a more believable story then that which is spun today, a young girl sat at the grave and cried. The people who had seen her offered no comfort and whispered about a dead lover, a parent, or even just a friend. No one bother to ask and just left the girl alone.

The young girl left and returned a few years later. She was more earth-weary and a certain cold air had wrapped itself around it. It amazed the people that she even remembered where the grave was because the soil was no longer fresh and it was never marked. Whoever was buried there was unknown expect to the girl.

On this day she planted a single red rose and sat by the grave and cried.

She left and didn't return for a long while, the seasons changed; the rose would die and then bloom again only to repeat the cycle. Death and birth, hope and despair, joy and sadness.

A few people mentioned that they had seen the girl but she never stayed long. The cold air and earth weariness seemed to disappear for a while, they had whispered. Soon it had become a fairytale of a girl and her lover separated by the veil of death the rose was they connection to each other; a small simple red rose as a bridge between the mortal realm and eternal realm.

As time does to all stories the truth was altered and altered some more to the point where only a small trace of truth could be found if one searched long and hard enough.

The girl returned older and she seemed distant but she still sat by the grave and cried. She returned again older and no longer a girl. She didn't cry but whispered words of fate and destiny and a meeting at the library.

River stood up from the grave one last time, brushed herself off and turned away, the last time she would ever be here. The words "the best man I ever knew" dancing around in her mind like a silly child who had learned a new dance.

The girl who had grown into a woman was never seen again. The story was twisted until it was nothing more than a bedtime fairytale. The Sleeping Beauty of its time. Until one day a small girl has stumbled upon the fairytale place. A seed of a white rose in her pocket was quickly and quietly placed into the ground.

Some say if you are lucky enough to see the roses, they would appear as two lovers in an eternal embrace, others see it as the older red rose comforting the younger white rose like a parent to a child, and some see two roses standing proud, tall, and side by side like friends.

And there you have it, the last story by me for a while. I'm really not sure what to think about this, I'm kind of happy with it but at the same time I'm not. *shrugs* oh well.