The Pink Rose

Once a young peasant woman passed by an angel sitting beneath a tree who had fallen out of heaven and had broken both his wings and his legs.

“Please”, he begged her, “I can neither walk nor fly, but I carry golden stairs in the pocket of my gown upon which an angel may climb back up to heaven. Will you carry me up the stairs upon your back?”.

The young woman agreed and so the angel reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of golden stairs that unfolded and grew until they reached the heights of heaven then the angel crawled onto the woman’s back and she carried him, a step at a time, up the golden staircase that lead to heaven.

It was exhausting carrying the angel but, finally, puffing and panting, with sweat pouring from her brow, she reached the top stair of the stair case and the angel lay down upon a cloud.

“Thank you”, he said, “Because you’ve done that for me, I will do something for you. You will give birth to a girl and a pink rose. If the girl does not sell or give away the pink rose, no matter how hard her life becomes then she shall marry a prince”.

And, not long afterwards, the woman, just as the angel had said, gave birth to a little girl and a pink rose.

And because the angel had said the rose was important the woman kept it and soon noticed that the pink rose never withered or died, even without food or water.

“It must surely be a magic kind of a rose”, said the woman.

And when the little girl was old enough to understand, the woman told her about the angel and the pink rose.

“And the angel said that if you do not sell it or give it away, no matter how hard your life becomes. You will marry a prince”.

Now, not long afterwards, the little girl was in the village square where a man was selling pretty dolls and they were no ordinary dolls either but dolls that danced and sang and seeing the little girl, the salesmen asked, “Would you like to buy one of my pretty dancing dolls little girl?”.

But the little girl had no money; all she had was her pretty pink rose.

She showed her pink rose to the salesman,

“This is all I have”, she said.

Seeing her rose, the sales man’s eyes lit up.

“Oh yes”, he said, “That’s a beautiful rose, for a rose like that. I would give you two of my dancing dolls”.

But the little girl shook her head,

“I’m not to sell it or give it away”, she said, “To anyone”.

Hearing this the doll salesmen got angry and he whispered to his dancing dolls,

“Ladies. Get that little girl. I want her rose”.

And the moment that the doll salesmen said this, the faces of the dancing dolls became fierce and frightening and they leapt onto the little girl, pulling her hair and pushing her down onto the ground.

Then the doll salesman rubbing his hands together said, “Now I’m going to take your rose whether you like it or not little girl”.

But then, suddenly, the pink rose turned into a mallet and, whacking the dolls that were attacking her with the mallet she shattered them all, then, before the doll salesman could do anything she picked herself up and ran back home.

But the little girl was crying when she got home, she was very sad.

“Oh mother”, she said to her mother, “Why do we have to be so poor?”.

“Don’t worry”, said her mother, hugging her, “Just have faith. The angel told me that you would meet a prince one day and I believe him”.

Now, four more years passed by and the little girl had held onto her rose; had not sold it or given it away when one day her mother became very ill, so ill in fact that the little girl was afraid that she might die.

But it was a treatable illness; an illness that could cured if only they had enough money to buy the medicine from the apothecary.

“I’ll sell the rose”, said the little girl to her mother, “Then I can buy the medicine for you that you need”.

“No”, begged her mother, shaking her head, “Don’t, please. If you sell the rose then you’ll never marry a prince”.

“But mother”, said the little girl, “Do you really think that angel was telling you the truth? Do you really think that a prince would marry a poor girl like me?”.

“I do”, said the mother, “You have to have faith. What the angel said will come true. I believe it”.

Still the little girl, without telling her mother, went to see the apothecary.

“Please”, she said to the old man who ran the apothecary shop, “Please, my mother is very ill. Please won’t you let me have some medicine for her; just half a bottle maybe, I’m sure that would be enough”.

“Medicine costs money”, the apothecary replied, “If you have no money to give me then I can give you no medicine, not one single drop”.

“But I have no money”, the girl replied, “All I have is this pink flower”.

And she showed the apothecary her pink rose.

When the apothecary saw the rose, however, his eyes lit up.

“Why for a flower like that”, he said, “I would give you all the medicine you want and more”.

But the little girl shook her head.

“No”, she said, “I’m not to sell it or give it away, to anyone”.

But then the apothecary, reaching onto his shelf, pulled down a bottle with a label that said, “vipers of vapour” and, pulling out the cork, released lots of green vapours; plumes of green smoke that looked and hissed and moved like snakes as they moved upon the air and, some of the vapours being inhaled by the little girl, she became unconscious. Then the wicked apothecary carried her and the pink rose into his laboratory where he made medicines.

Then grinding his mortar and pestle, he said to himself, “I’ll make up some shrinking poison that will shrink this little girl away to nothing so no one will find her, then I’ll have her rose”.

Fortunately, while the little girl was lying on a table beside the rose, the petals of the rose touched her nose and, its pink fragrance entering her nose, it pushed out all the green vapours from inside her that came rushing with a hiss out of her mouth, then she woke up and while the apothecary's back was turned she picked up the rose and, creeping out of his laboratory, ran back home.

When she got back home the little girl was very unhappy because she had no medicine and she was worried about her mother but then, entering her mother’s room, she thought she saw an angel standing beside her mother’s bed looking down at her.

“Will she be alright?”, she asked.

The angel looked at the rose in the little girls hand and smiled,

“Don’t worry”, he said, “Everything will work out in the end”.

Then, suddenly, the angel disappeared and the little girl wondered if she had been dreaming.

But, nonetheless, her mother did get better even without the medicine and the girl was sure that the angel must have helped her.

Now more years flew by and the girl grew from a child into a young woman.

Then, one day a prince came riding through the forest upon a white horse and beside him rode his squire upon a donkey.

And when they saw the Prince the mother and the daughter welcomed him in and made him food and gave him tea and even gave some food to the squire who was outside, an apple to the prince’s white horse and a carrot to the squires donkey.

But the Prince did not seem very nice; though the daughter and the mother gave him food and tea and waited upon him he didn’t even say thank you and when the girl told him about the angel and the pink rose and how the angel had said she would marry a prince, the Prince did not seem interested, in fact he even said,

“Oh I’m sure that no prince would ever marry a common peasant girl”.

Hearing this, the girl’s heart sunk.

But then she showed the Prince her pink rose and the Prince’s eyes started to glow.

“Why what a beautiful rose”, he said, “I’ll give you a hundred golden guineas for it”.

The girl was confused.

“But I’m not to sell it or give it away”, she said, “To anyone”.

Hearing this, the Prince only became angry and, drawing his sword, he threatened the girl and mother,

“If you will not give me your rose”, he shouted, “Then I‘ll take it by force”.

And the girl worried if this time she would lose the rose forever.

But then, just as that moment, the squire came running into the house and wrestling the prince, snatched the sword out of his hand and then chased him out of the house with it.

“Are you alright?”, the Squire asked the girl and her mother after the Prince had taken the white horse and ridden away.

“Yes”, said the girl, “But won’t you get into trouble for attacking your master in that way”.

“Oh, don’t worry”, said the Squire, “He wasn’t really a prince. He was my squire. I’m the prince. I only swapped clothes with him because I want to meet a girl who will love me for myself and not for my wealth or title”.

Hearing this, happily, the girl gave the Prince her pink rose.

“I’m sure that you’re the one the angel meant”, she said thrusting it into his hand, “That I’m supposed to give the rose to”.

But, looking at the rose, the Prince didn’t seem interested in it.

“I would rather get to know you, miss”, he said, “If you don’t mind”.

And so the Prince and the Peasant girl became the best of friends and soon they even fell in love and got married in a royal cathedral and when they did, the pink rose turned into a bright red rose of love.