The Rose and the Dagger

THE ROSE AND THE DAGGER

With a loud sound the gates to the cemetary opened. It's been over a year since Argon had last been here. He would have come earlier, if only he had dared to face his fears earlier. Even now his hands were shaking - just like the rest of his body. Why go on? Why not just turn around now and run, and come back later, or, or just never come back at all… No, he couldn't do that. If there was a life after this one, it would surely become worse than hell for him if he didn't go on now. Slowly he walked on, step by step, careful not to stand on any graves. Ten feet to the right of the big tree, he knew that very well, even though he had not been here before. But that was the place she lived for, when she was gone once again, you could always find her there, or in the rose garden of her father. The beautiful Jadda. Argon had trouble withholding his tears every time he thought of her, and even though there was no-one around, he refused to cry. He always was different than the others. As a young boy, he never liked to climb in trees or beat up the new kid in town, no, he rather stayed inside, drawing, or writing as soon as he had learned that from his father. While the other kids didn't even know what a book was, he could already write when he was twelve. They made fun of him. Argon never learned to protect himself, so it was very easy for the other kids to make him cry, and when he did, they made fun of him even more. They told him that even Lord Brendan's daughter - who was very fragile - could win from him in a fight. It was probably true too.

As he stood there, with the wind blowing through his hair, thinking of his past, a thought came upon him. Why not join her, would that solve any problems? Or even better - would that make her happy? It was the perfect night, and the perfect place to do it. Who would care? Jadda would, but Argon's life couldn't get worse, he had nothing to loose. No, his father couldn't live on if his only son died, and the last thing Argon wanted was to hurt his father - or Jadda, because they had been his only friends, and what with one gone…

He walked on, turned right at the tree, and then he stopped, in front of a small wooden cross. He smiled. Jadda was a simple girl, and before she was taken away, she demanded that nothing more but a small wooden cross was placed on her grave... His smile turned into a grim expression. Why did it have to be her? Why not someone who really deserves it, Jadda had done nothing wrong! "No!!!", he shouted. "Leave me alone!". He had already gone through this so many times… First the image of Jadda, running around playfully before his eyes, laughing, crowned with a crown of flowers, and then, darkness…And then another image appeared in his head, the sky was darker, and the laughing had faded away. She dissappeared from the image, but Argon knew all too well what had happened, for it was not just an image, it was the repeating of something that had actually happened, something that had changed his life beyond imagination. Jadda had been bit by a snake, an innocent wound at first, but the healer could not treat it, for the poison was unknown to him. She suffered so much…. Almost four weeks she had been in bed before she passed away, breathing heavily and sweating blood. It hurt Argon so much to see her like that, the one who protected him, the one who saved him from his miserable life, but at that moment it was he who prayed for her, and when she died, he felt as if he could have rescued her, as if he hadn't prayed hard enough. And ever since these images appeared in his head, and every time he felt even more guilty than before. Normally, these images would end and the feeling would pass away - partially at least, but this time it was different. Again, darkness followed, and a dagger appeared, floating in the darkness. It was a beautiful dagger, with a golden grip, imbued with a shiny ruby… It was hís dagger. It circled around in the darkness, showing itself from every side, and then it stopped, pointing towards Argon. Suddenly it flung towards him with great speed, but it went right through him and dissappeared in the darkness behind him. It was only a matter of seconds as these images appeared and dissappeared in his head, but the feeling would not wear off that easy.

Shocked by the last image, Argon fell on his knees before the grave, holding the rose he had carried along in both his hands before his chest. Tears came to his eyes as he placed the rose on Jadda's grave. He covered his face with his hands, trying to stop the images from appearing again, but he couldn't. There she was again, the beautiful Jadda, running around playfully, and then the same image, but darker, and without Jadda, and then total darkness, and the dagger… Awakened from the images, he took the dagger in both his hands. Yes, he had carried it along, at first he didn't know why, but now he knew… It was not accidental that the image of the dagger had appeared, no, Argon had been thinking. He had nothing to live for, his father had taken care of him long enough, now it was hís turn, now Argon had to take care of his father, and of himself. Death was his only desire, but he knew very well that he would hurt his father too much if he killed himself. But wasn't his father in the same position? Argon never knew his mother, she died at his birth. His father too was an outcast in his youth, and even now he lived in solitude, with only Argon by his side. If Argon was bound to be like his father, and their lives were so identical, then shouldn't his father eventually suffer the same fate? Wasn't… death what his father had always wanted, but never dared to face? Death could solve it all, and if it was eternal sleep, as some said, then it wouldn't be worse than life for him, and if there was another world beyond death, then Argon could return to Jadda, and his father could return to his mother… He knew for sure that it would make his father happy, and himself as well, but would he… could he be the cause of the death of someone he loved? Would he be able to face death himself, and take his father with him? He never used his dagger for anything but memories, but now it would soon turn against the one who gave it to Argon, and against Argon himself…

Argon brought the sharp point of the dagger to his left wrist, and touched it with the cold metal. Slowly he pressed it into his skin, and a drop of blood fell onto the grave of his beloved. He wasn't used to pain, he feared it, but at that moment it did not matter. He pulled back the dagger, and watched the little wound bleed, until finally it stopped bleeding. He put away the weapon, and rose to his feet. For the first time in his life he actualy knew what to do. He would kill his father, and then kill himself, both with the same dagger he once got as a gift from the one it would kill.

It was a delight to finally know the solution to his problems, but he was also afraid, because killing was not in his nature, and he'd certainly have trouble killing his father, but it was the best thing to do. Argon walked backwards, away from the wooden cross and the rose he left behind, back to the gate, out of the cemetary. He had left all thoughts behind at the cemetary, except for the one of death, and well-being of his father and himself. "It would only hurt a little, if i stab him in the back", Argon thought. He opened the large, black door to his father's house and stepped inside. His father was sitting on a stool in front of the fireplace, with his back towards Argon. He didn't seem to notice him.

Argon unsheated his dagger. "Father..", he said, as he walked towards him. "I have found a way…" He raised the dagger, showing no emotions, and stabbed it in his father's back. "Why…why, my son?", groaned his father as he dropped on his knees, "I…. I… Goodbye, son", and he fell forward on the wooden floor, with no expression on his face. "I'm sorry father, we will soon meet again", said Argon. He had lost all emotions, he did not care. He felt delighted now that his father was dead and he himself would soon be too. He smiled, and cleaned the dagger with his shirt. "That wasn't very hard", he said to himself. "Jadda, I will join you once again!".

Argon opened the door and walked out, back to the cemetary. Ten feet to the right of the tree he stopped walking, and kneeled down before the wooden cross for the last time. The images did not appear this time. Surely, as if he had done this before, he placed the point of the dagger against the middle of his chest, between his rib cage. He gave the cross a last look, and then, without loosening his grip on the dagger, he thrusted it into his body. A shiver went through his body, and his grip loosened, but his face was still as grim as when he killed his father.

The images appeared in Argon's head again, but the one of the dagger was replaced by an image of his father, telling him that he was wrong. "No Argon. You chose the easy way out. Have I not taught you that the easy way out isn't always the right way out?", the image said. "But it's understandable, Argon. It is too late already.", and the image faded away into darkness, but was followed by the beautiful face of Jadda, and she too spoke to him with a sincere voice. "My dear Argon… What have you done? You know that I would not have wanted you to do this…". But Argon interrupted. "No!", he shouted. "Go away! It is too late!". The images disappeared, and his eyes were filled with tears. He didn't feel the pain, but he felt the coldness of death creeping over him, and he came to realize what he had done. His father, he killed his father… They could have gone and live elsewhere, Argon and his father, and leave their past behind, but his father was dead, and he would soon be as well. Again he shouted. "No!". But no-one could hear him. His emotions and thoughts had returned, and he clearly realized his mistake now. His tears fell onto the grave he kneeled before, and he looked up into the sky. He could see her face, he could see Jadda's face in the stars. She was not smiling, as she usually did. She was crying. Argon touched his face, his hands covered with blood. The images kept repeating themselves, and with every one he felt his life being sucked out of him slowly. He was too weak now to remain upright, and he fell face down on Jadda's grave. His eyes were looking, but they saw nothing. Next to his face layed the rose he left there less than an hour ago. It was dead, and so was Argon. The expression on his face was sad. He realized that he made a mistake too late, and he payed the highest price.

The next morning the undertaker found him, and buried him some days later. There was no-one but the undertaker himself who witnessed it. The rose and the dagger were placed on his grave. Two wooden crosses now stand next to each other, ten feet to the right of the big tree on the cemetary.