The Red Rose Of Mount Ellinorfeatured

Under the light from the harvest moon above, the darkness welcomed me in like a long-lost friend I was seeing again for the first time; its presence was here to guide me home. Drifting along with the ebb and flow of the current, the smell of sulfur filled the air around as my boat tugged from left to right and back again from below. I was making my way to the other side of the lake to reach the ruins of Mount Ellinor where I would be reunited with my true love once again. My journey across land and sea had brought me home to her – my budding Rose.

In the stillness of the night, creeping along the surface of the water, the ghost grey mist of a noiseless and motherless fog crawled toward me. The deathly vapor of the mist tickled the ripples in the water as it enrobed everything it could. Around me located on either side of the lake lined a forest full of trees. As if pulling a blanket up over my head, the eerie silence on the water swept past me outlining a motionless figure as the icy cold mountain winds whipped through the valley. It was a stone throws passage from here and I was destined to forge forward into her arms once again.

Her light cherry sweet pink lips, luscious and soft to the touch, shined brightly as a memory of her smile consumed my thoughts. Visions of kissing her gently repeatedly, as laughter would escape from her chest, increased my desire to touch her once more. Her blue eyes naturally glimmered when rays of light illuminated her welcoming presence as her slender voluptuous frame matched seductively with her long brown hair. She was quite the delectable sight to see and all the woman I ever needed, even after all of these years.

Many men envied the way she looked at me as if I was all that she could see. Occasionally a misfortunate suitor would attempt to shower her with gifts of flowers, candy, and acts of chivalry or kindness in holding open doors as she walked past. No matter how hard they tried to entice her, my Rose, never acknowledged their endeavors. I was her leading man and she was a safe haven that nurtured my weary soul.

The abrupt collision with the bank and rocks on the other side of the lake jarred me from my distant thoughts. Struggling to see through the still densely thick fog, I was able to ground and lift my boat out of the water so it could be docked until my next departure. At the edge of the pier, flickered the faint light of a lantern as it shone fervently through the mist. It was my mile marker for my homeward quest which signaled the halfway point home.

Our cabin in the woods was a short hike through the forest and up the mountain, just high enough to get a good view of the mountain range below. Rose & I had bought this place one summer as a ten-year anniversary present to ourselves. We never had any kids, even though we tried to conceive, and this was a result of a lifelong marriage surviving that extinguished flame. Each time we tried with no success, we both ached a little more inside, reliving a moment in time hoping that someday we would be blessed with a baby of our own. But that day had not yet arrived, and we were forced to move through it alone – together.

Exasperated by the mere thought of our misfortune, I grabbed the lantern from the pier and outstretched it in front of me while I headed towards the trail that led home.

Entering the forest, the sound of sticks and leaves breaking under the weight of my feet echoed loudly through the air. The fog still heavily impenetrable toward the lake dissipated only slightly the further up the mountain trail I climbed. It had been almost two weeks to the day since I had seen her last. We had headed out here to our cabin for a small getaway to do some mountain hiking and climbing, while we enjoyed the transition of the fall autumn leaves. For Rose, this was always her favorite time of year.

On each of our hikes she would gather stems or pieces of leaves, plants, and flowers from the forest to bring back to the cabin to be pressed for safe keeping. She had several olive-green books, both big and small, lined on her bookshelf of trips we had taken every year in the fall. It was her way of remembering the moments and time spent on those days out in the sun within her transitioning world.

From town I had brought back with me a bag filled with a few of those small green books to make up for our previous argument. She had wanted to talk about a second round of in-vitro fertilization treatments because her desire to have children continued to grow stronger. It had angered me how her approach on the subject was never quenched even after the many failed attempts. As if the thousands of dollars that were spent on each trial weren’t wasted on a dream we were never going to have.

Even though we had been married for ten years, our focus to have a family of our own had started when we first met in our early twenties. We had agreed that we both wanted a big family. Enough memories to go around taking our boys to baseball practice and the thought of having a little girl that Rose could play dress up with. Our hopes to build the life we always wanted was filled with passion and infallible desire. Little did we know that life seemed to have other plans.

In the beginning we had faced each disappointment and failure to conceive through couples’ therapy. We had searched to find healthy ways to handle our emotional and mental health. It worked for a while. Rose & I were able to keep our connection intact and our love alive. But in recent years, each new failure transformed into more internal wounds than the one before. It was starting to weigh on me and take its toll.

Furious with me and my resistance to try another round of treatments, our conversation had escalated to a heated exchange.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re just giving up on our dream? Maybe I should just find a man like our neighbor Mark, since him and Nancy, have been able to have three boys of their own. Do you really want that Michael?”

“I think you can fuck whoever you want to, Rose. But you will never find a life as good as what I’ve built for you. Sooner or later, you have to give up this dream of trying to conceive. It is never going to happen for us.”

“If you no longer want to continue to try to have a family with me, then we no longer want the same things. I thought we were in this together, no matter what. I’m going to call Nancy & Mark and let them know that I’ll be coming home early from our trip since they’re watching the dogs for us. I’ll be leaving in a few days’ time.”

“Do whatever you want. But you will regret this.”

Rose had left where we were standing in the dining room, adjacent to the kitchen, and walked into the bedroom slamming the door behind her. Through the walls I could hear her faint cries filling up the silence in the house. I knew she needed to be alone for a while to be with her thoughts. This menacing burden to conceive had finally cracked the foundation of our marriage. So, I slept on the couch to give her space and to adjust to the reality that my wife was leaving me. Early the following morning, Rose was still in the house while I got ready to head into town.

Seeing the outline of the cabin through the fog up ahead, the present moment pulled me from recalling my fight with Rose almost two weeks prior. The light on the porch above the door shined luminously with a foggy halo around it. From a distance the entire cabin appeared to be breathing with the forest and the night, inhaling the fog and exhaling the changing leaves. With every swift movement I made up the steps and onto the porch, anxiousness bellowed loudly within me. In a few moments, I would open the door and see her.

Fumbling around with my keys inside my pocket, unlocking the door seemed to be a quick pull and release. As I stepped into the doorway of the cabin, I saw her there protruding around the corner out from the dining room waiting for me. Eager to embrace her and wrap my arms around her, I impatiently greeted her with a smile and a few words.

“Honey, it is so wonderful to see you again. I have missed you so very much.” I said as I walked towards the chair in the dining room and took off my wet black jacket, laying down the books I had brought back with me.

Watching me ever so closely, she turned towards me to meet my gaze. Studying my movement, her curious expression lingered quietly waiting for an answer on my long-awaited return.

“I am sorry it took me so long to get back to you. The hike through the forest and into town to get supplies and check in with Nancy and Mark took me a few days. As you know, they left me a voicemail on my phone and the reception out here is awful. I wanted to make sure I got a chance to speak with them directly, so they knew what was going on. I told them about our hike through the upper trailhead and the herd of white goats we saw near the top of the mountain. The weather here this time of year is perfect for hiking.”

Walking towards her, I could smell the faint scent of her perfume linger throughout the dining room in the places where she had been. Rose always wore the familiar scent of Lady Stetson. A peachy fragrance mixed with a hint of roses, tangerines, ylang ylang, and amber. From their body powder and cologne spray, she kept plenty of it stocked in the linen closet both here at the cabin and at our home in Portland. It was her favorite fragrance to wear and breathing it in for the first time in weeks began to arouse me. Standing in front of her, I leaned into her cheek.

“You look beautiful. Gorgeous, just the way you did when I left.”

Taking her in with a full view of her lovely figure and frame comforted my worries to finally be in her arms again. As I stared deeply into her eyes, caressing her cheek bones and the way she brushed against my hand, I knew she was happy to have me home. Being reunited with my other half, after my long journey, was indescribable.

Hanging from the ceiling with the noose around her dislocated neck, powered nose and make up as fresh as the day she put it on, while wearing the red winter jacket I bought for her last Christmas, made me marvel in wonder at the beautiful sight before my eyes. Every time I came home to her, she incandescently glowed as the angel I met all those years ago. The blood that dripped from the corners of her mouth and eyes had congealed on her skin as if it were a part of her natural appearance.

She had tried to leave the morning I had headed into town with her suitcase and belongings in hand. In an effort to talk things over with her, she had pushed me away and refused to listen to what I had to say. Out the door and onto the front porch steps, I had forcibly managed to push her down. Her suitcase went flying and blood began to seep from a gash on her leg as she had cut it on the tip of a sharp rock. Before she was able get away from me, I struggled to overpower her and use the spare rope from the shed as a way to bind her hands. Throwing her over my shoulder, she screamed and thrashed as we walked back up the steps and into the house.

“Scream as loud as you want. You know no one can hear you.” I said smirking as we walked inside the cabin together.

What woman, especially mine, walks away from her husband when he is trying to speak with her.

Still looking at the charming site before me, I wondered how the last few breaths had been for her. On her fingernails, she often wore a vibrant red nail polish, which she felt helped to accentuate her feminine personality. Red was her favorite color and the primary sultry symbol of power and passion combined. Her hands stood out fervently as they matched the color of her red winter coat. Below where her feet hung, laid an outline on the hardwood floor were the remnants of blotches of dried blood. The sweet aroma of her decomposing body and Lady Stetson had filled the air around the house. She had stayed exactly where I left her, just like she promised.

“Here, let me untie the rope from your bound hands. I think we’ve both had a chance to calm down now.”

Rose always pulled out all of the stops for me and today was no exception.

I have drenched you in red, my sweet flower Rose.

With Light & Love,
– H ❤