Willow Rose, a character I had in a game called Renaissance Kingdoms. The game has three ‘kingdoms’ connected to the renaissance era: Europe, Japan, and Aztec. This character is Japanese, from Shogun Kingdoms. I connected the main role plays I had there, gathered them into a document, and a collection of tales were created. This is, Chapter one, of Willow Rose, an imaginative piece of me, who kept me sane in years of confusion (February 2007 to August 2016). I Have edit the post only a little, you may take note as I post the chapters, the improvement of my writing style. Stay tuned for more throughout the year, one chapter per month. Enjoy. Further tales will include my other characters, Arial de Grey and High Priestess.
Willow rose obtained her name by great fortune. Willow sprung from the clay mud of the earth, life given from the great waters. She grew short, upon a spirally twisting path, filled with love, life, strife, solitude, and kinship. Her soul wind is her guide, and the weeping branches that hold her memories and experiences never touch the ground, but continue to grow endlessly, even in a heavy weeping fashion. The earth, and its waters and creatures are her guide, and the whistle of the wind is her voice.
Once upon a time a rice farmer was sitting underneath a willow on a hot summer day. The willow tree’s branches swayed to and fro in a gentle way, creating a breeze to cool this farmer. Farmer was thankful for this breeze, though he never could understand a willow. It grew in solitude, and could withstand great storms, but if a human being came to close it rarely would let one sit beneath. And if any human, for whatever reason, tried to care for a willow, the willow would sacrifice itself for it would rather die than be under another’s care. But this particular willow was not one of those sorts. This man felt blessed to be welcomed beneath the willow’s dense branches.
Look beside you an elderly whisper told the man.
The man looked from side to side and up and down to see who was about, for he thought for sure someone was present. And as he was looking here and there, his eyes landed upon a rose bud growing from beneath the willow. It was only barely peeking from the ground, but he knew of this strange flower for he is also a merchant, and has traveled many lands. He knew this bud was growing into a rose, a flower not native to Japan.
“But what is this?” he asked to no one in particular. It is your destiny spoke the whisper. “Who is there?” shouted the man as he leaped to his feet, as if a small critter bit him on his behind. It is I, the spirit of the willow. Look again at your destiny.
The man’s heart beats profoundly in his chest, but he is frozen to the spot, petrified perhaps, or maybe some force is keeping him there so that he will look at what he must see. And so he obliged. He shifted his gaze from the trunk of the willow to the little green bud upon the ground. As he peered, and the longer he did, the bud grew.
The man gasped and looked away to his side, as if he had a companion beside him watching what he is seeing, but of course no one was there. “It is a trick of the eye,” he said to himself. “It is the summer heat, it is causing my mind to play trickster on me.” He looked back at the rose and saw that it stopped growing, but once he looked at it longer than three seconds, it began to slowly grow again.
It grows as you focus upon it.
The man’s mouth fell agape, his eyes widened, and his knees slowly buckled under him, as if some enchantment is causing him to kneel closer to the growing bud.
The man watched, and watched. The bud grew and grew, soon a long stem was present with specks that the man knew would be thorns, and the bulb like shape of the flower that has yet to be bloomed is apparent.
“Uhm,” is all he could say as he peered at the growing flower. His eyes filled with tears that haven’t been shed since he was a knee-high boy.
The tears fell gently upon his cheeks. One rolled down his cheek and touched the ground. As it touched the ground the flower began to bloom. Red pedals began to poke out of the bulb.
“Hilgo, what are you doing? You must get back to work before the sun is gone,” says a soft but stern woman’s voice behind him.
The man said not a word, nor did he take his eyes off the flower. He only motioned with his left hand for his wife to come near.
Her eyes widen and right hand lands upon her chest and states “Ah-ya,” stated the woman as she watched with her husband the red rose bloom. “But what is this enchantment? It must be no good,” said the woman in a panicked tone, for she fears the unknown and unexplainable.
It is good, and it is blessed, it is for you and your husband, your family will soon expand. Pluck the rose and stand it in a vase, sit it upon your window seal, and it will shine and live for days. On the day of its death, you will have a surprise. For inside your womb, a baby will lie.
The wife fainted, for she knew it to be the willow talking to her. Her husband paid no mind, and he plucked this rose upon the ground, careful to not touch its thorns. “You will be our Willow Rose,” he whispered softly to it as he lifted his wife up with one arm, gently placed her over his shoulder, and strode toward their cottage.
And so it goes. The rose did live, staying frozen in time a full blooming rose, and glistening when the sun rays hit it. The wife and husband watched this rose periodically as the days passed on.
“It still lives, it still lives,” they told each other each day.
Year one was filled of hope, they were happy to have a beauty in their little home. Year two turned into confusing, curiosity, for how can a rose live so long? Year three turned into discouragement, for the wife and husband were wanting a child of their own. Ah, why is life so cruel! thought the wife in the second month of the fourth year, as she peered at the glistening, healthy blooming rose.
A petal fell from the rose. The woman saw this happen and gasped, for she knew what fortune this will bring.
“Hilgo, Hilgo, a petal fell!” shouted the woman with glee, to her husband who was in the kitchen heating the tea.
He rushed into their living area, to find if this was truth, and with his own eyes, which he had to rub in case they deceived him, he saw that it was truth. A petal fell. They’ll soon have a child.
So the days went on, and each passing day for a fortnight the flower’s petals fell, and stem began to wilt. There was a lot of lovemaking in this time, for the husband and wife were so overjoyed that they couldn’t help but express it with each other.
And so, in the third month of the fourth year of the rose being in their home, when it was nothing but a pile of black wilted leaves, a child was conceived. Nine months later, after the first week of winter, on a cold snowy day, a child was born, a female child.
“You will be our Willow Rose,” said the couple in unison, as the child was held in her mothers arms for the first time. And so, that is the birth of Willow Rose.