{"id":2500,"date":"2023-04-05T20:48:25","date_gmt":"2023-04-05T20:48:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/websites.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/?p=2500"},"modified":"2023-04-05T20:48:25","modified_gmt":"2023-04-05T20:48:25","slug":"the-rainbow-rose-by-sam-kostakis","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/2023\/04\/05\/the-rainbow-rose-by-sam-kostakis\/","title":{"rendered":"&#8220;The Rainbow Rose&#8221; by Sam Kostakis"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p>Congratulations to our winner of the March 2023 Writing Challenge, &#8220;The Rainbow Rose&#8221; by Sam Kostakis. This piece is an aromatic retelling of the classic Sleeping Beauty fairytale. The prompt was to write a piece inspired by folklore or mythology. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large is-resized\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-768x1024.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-2501\" width=\"240\" height=\"320\" srcset=\"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-768x1024.jpg 768w, https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-225x300.jpg 225w, https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-1152x1536.jpg 1152w, https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-1536x2048.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-560x747.jpg 560w, https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-260x347.jpg 260w, https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-160x213.jpg 160w, https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/14\/2023\/04\/IMG_3579-scaled.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 240px) 100vw, 240px\" \/><figcaption><em>Author Sam Kostakis <\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\">Read the Piece Below! <\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>For as long as she could remember, Rosie had been told the same thing by every fairy,<br>witch, goblin, fortune-teller, and peddling salesman to stop by the castle doors. She had had her<br>palm read, her tea leaves investigated, strands of her hair made into charms and dangled over<br>crystal balls. There had been charms, enchantments, spells, potions, and on one memorable<br>occasion, an enterprising warlock had tried a series of countercurses.<br><br>The end result was always the same.<br><br>On your sixteenth birthday, you will fall into a sleep like death. If your true love doesn\u2019t<br>kiss you, you will stay that way forever.<br><br>It was a clever curse, Rosie had to admit. Who falls in love by the time they\u2019re sixteen?<br>Surely, you can\u2019t fall in love while you\u2019re asleep, so the lucky lord had to come along sometime<br>before then. Or lady. Or liege. Or whomever. The curse hadn\u2019t come with a gender stipulation, at<br>least not as far as Rosie was aware.<br><br>There were only four months left until her sixteenth birthday, and Rosie was starting to<br>realize she might have a problem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cRelax,\u201d Liz said. Rosie\u2019s favorite lady\u2019s maid swung herself into the elaborately carved<br>chair set before the vanity table Rosie never willingly used, folded her arms across the back, and<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>propped her chin on her hands. \u201cYou have\u2026 fifteen weeks, four days, six hours and twenty-<br>seven minutes? Plenty of time to meet someone, my lady.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rosie cast a meaningful look at the carefully wound watch on Liz\u2019s wrist, the enchanted<br>one she had been trusted with two years ago. Liz waved her hand.<br><br>\u201cI can\u2019t remember the last time I checked that.\u201d<br><br>Rosie snorted and threw herself back onto her bed. She landed in a mountain of plush<br>pillows with a sigh, and Liz shrieked.<br><br>\u201cYour hair, Princess! I spend two hours on that hair!\u201d<br><br>Rosie sat up, catching a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. Sure enough, her crown<br>of braids was now lopsided.<br><br>\u201cMy apologies, Liz.\u201d<br><br>\u201cCome here.\u201d Liz stood and yanked Rosie\u2019s arm, dragging her into the vanity chair. \u201cSit.<br>You\u2019re supposed to be downstairs in half an hour\u2014\u201d<br><br>\u201cI could always stay up here.\u201d<br><br>\u201cNo. Every single eligible man in the kingdom is going to be here tonight.\u201d<br><br>\u201cThat\u2019s exactly what my mother said to me last week. There can\u2019t possibly be any<br>eligible men in the kingdom I haven\u2019t met yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI wouldn\u2019t be so sure.\u201d Liz pulled a single pin from Rosie\u2019s hair, and the whole crown<br>came tumbling down into a mass of neat braids, which Liz immediately gathered up. \u201cSomeone<br>probably found themselves newly unattached this week.\u201d<br><br>\u201cI don\u2019t think that typically lends itself to true love.\u201d<br><br>\u201cEh.\u201d Liz twisted her wrist, wielding a pin in the other hand, and piled Rosie\u2019s hair neatly<br>back on top of her head. \u201cYou never know.\u201d<br><br>\u201cDid you and Charlotte end well? Or Amanda? Or Francine? Or Daphne? Or\u2014\u201d<br><br>\u201cYour highness,\u201d Liz said. \u201cI beg of you, stop talking.\u201d<br><br>Rosie stood, examining herself in the mirror. Her hair was neatly arranged again. Her<br>emerald-green dress shimmered against her dark skin, the golden pattern of crowns and roses<br>subtlety stitched into the billowing skirts sparkling whenever she moved.<br><br>\u201cBeautiful,\u201d Liz declared. \u201cThey won\u2019t be able to take their eyes off you.\u201d<br><br>\u201cThat,\u201d Rosie said, as she slipped her feet into gold satin dancing slippers, \u201cIs exactly<br>what I\u2019m afraid of.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rosie stood before the massive double doors to the ballroom, waiting for the footman to<br>get his act together. He shuffled through his papers, cleared his throat, and said, \u201cReady when<br>you are, Highness.\u201d<br><br>\u201cAre you sure this time?\u201d Rosie asked.<br><br>\u201cOf course, of course\u2026 oh, just a moment\u2026\u201d the footman paused to reshuffle his papers,<br>and Rosie resisted the urge to sigh.<br><br>\u201cAlright, Highness. Ready now.\u201d<br><br>The two guards on either side of the doors reached for the handles, and the footman<br>stepped out onto the balcony before the great staircase. He lifted a tiny gold trumpet from its<br>place at his hip and blew a series of short notes. \u201cPresenting\u2026 firstborn daughter of His Majesty<br>King Benedict\u2026 Her Royal Highness, Princess Rosalind Nicolette Claire Sherriden!\u201d<br>Rosie stepped out onto the balcony and started down the right-hand staircase to<br>thunderous applause and more bowing and curtsying than Rosie cared to consider. Her dancing<br>slippers hit the polished marble floor, and almost immediately her mother was at her side.<br>Queen Annabelle was not a small woman, and though Rosie had been taller than her<br>mother since she was thirteen, she felt absolutely dwarfed now. Annabelle looped her arm neatly<br>through her daughter\u2019s and dragged her away from the crowd at the staircase, all courtiers and<br>ministers hoping for an audience with the next queen of Shirodor, irrelevant if Rosie didn\u2019t<br>survive the year.<br><br>\u201cListen closely,\u201d Annabelle said as she guided Rosie toward the dance floor. \u201cPrince<br>Quentin of Deamid is here tonight. Obviously, anyone who strikes your fancy is perfectly alright<br>by me,\u201d Annabelle said. \u201cBut I\u2019m sure your father would like you to spend your time this evening with some boys\u2026 of reputable parents\u2026 preferably heirs to kingdoms or empires. It<br>does not matter to me at all, my love,\u201d she added. \u201cBut to please your father.\u201d<br><br>\u201cOf course, mother,\u201d Rosie said.<br><br>\u201cGo dance!\u201d Annabelle commanded, and with a neat flick of her arm, she had separated<br>herself from Rosie, leaving her daughter adrift right at the edge of the dance floor.<br><br>\u201cMay I have the honor of this dance?\u201d the first prince asked, and Rosie hardly got her \u201cI<br>suppose so,\u201d out before she was swept into the chaos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rosie danced with three princes, the son of a duke, and five of the commoners her parents<br>invited only out of desperation, determined as they were to exhaust all of their male options<br>before they started inviting single women to their parties.<br><br>After the last prince stomped on her foot with a heeled boot, Rosie decided she was<br>tapped out for the night. She slipped behind a heavy tapestry depicting her father\u2019s coronation<br>and out the small glass door behind it, onto a balcony that stretched a quarter of the castle\u2019s<br>length. She kicked off her slippers, enjoying the cool stone against her sore feet.<br><br>\u201cLong night?\u201d someone asked, and Rosie jumped.<br><br>A shadow unfolded itself from the side of the castle and moved to join her at the railing.<br>Rosie recognized him, but only in passing. This was Prince Quentin.<br><br>\u201cOh, no,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ve been enjoying myself immensely. I hope everything has been to<br>your liking, as well?\u201d<br><br>\u201cI despise these parties,\u201d Quentin said. \u201cI find them tedious. My parents are desperate to<br>marry me off to whatever eligible woman they can find.\u201d<br><br>\u201cThey can\u2019t possibly be any more concerned with marriage than my parents are,\u201d Rosie<br>said.<br><br>\u201cWell,\u201d Quentin said, waving his hand dismissively. \u201cCircumstances. My father is ill, and<br>I\u2019m likely to take the throne in the next year whether I desire to or not. You look increasingly<br>unlikely to survive the year, if the rumors are true, Princess.\u201d<br><br>\u201cThe rumors are true,\u201d Rosie admitted. \u201cDid you not notice the number of commoners<br>present at this party? It reeks of royal desperation.\u201d<br><br>\u201cThey\u2019ll be inviting women next,\u201d Quentin said. Rosie glanced up, shocked, and caught<br>the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.<br><br>\u201cI grow weary of that being everyone\u2019s next leap of logic,\u201d Rosie said. \u201cI have made no<br>secret of my lack of interest in members of either gender.\u201d<br><br>The upturned corner of Quentin\u2019s mouth spread into a full-blown smile. \u201cIt\u2019s nice to<br>finally meet someone who shares my inclinations. Or lack thereof.\u201d<br><br>\u201cOh,\u201d Rosie said. \u201cOh, you\u2019re\u2014you\u2019re like me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt certainly looks that way,\u201d Quentin said cheerfully.<br><br>\u201cHow long\u2014\u201d Rosie looked away with a soft laugh, bracing her gloved hands against the<br>carved marble railing of the balcony.<br><br>Beneath them, the dark velvet of the castle lawn gave way to the lights of Shirodor\u2019s<br>capital city. Rosie gazed out over it all, this vast kingdom she had always been expected to<br>inherit.<br><br>\u201cHow long have you known?\u201d<br><br>\u201cOh, years,\u201d Quentin said. \u201cI never did understand my peers\u2019 incessant fixation on the<br>young ladies. Whenever I voiced it, I was told either that I was too young, and it would happen<br>in time, or that I was covering for the fact that my preferences may lie elsewhere.\u201d<br><br>\u201cMy parents say those things,\u201d Rosie admitted. \u201cAnd\u2026 my closest friend. My lady\u2019s<br>maid, Liz.\u201d She tipped her head back, closing her eyes. The night air was cool on her cheeks; the<br>breeze dried the beginnings of tears from the corners of her eyes.<br><br>\u201cThey don\u2019t always understand,\u201d Quentin said. \u201cThey want to, I\u2019m sure, but they can\u2019t<br>fathom that something so critical to their experience could be completely unnecessary to another<br>person.\u201d<br><br>Rosie ducked her head, swiping at the corners of her eyes. When she looked to her left,<br>the corner of Quentin\u2019s mouth was turned up in a smile.<br><br>\u201cThank you,\u201d Rosie said.<br><br>\u201cWhat on earth for?\u201d Quentin shook his head. \u201cI haven\u2019t done anything other than exist.\u201d<br><br>\u201cThank you for that, then,\u201d Rosie said. \u201cIt means more than I can say, to know I\u2019m not<br>alone in this.\u201d<br><br>Quentin\u2019s smile grew, but he only gave a shallow bow in her direction and said, \u201cHappy<br>to be of service, your highness.\u201d<br><br>He turned and strode back into the ballroom, leaving Rosie on the balcony, overlooking a<br>kingdom she now knew for certain she would never inherit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>On the morning of Rosie\u2019s sixteenth birthday, the princess\u2019s lady\u2019s maid came sprinting<br>out of her chambers, shouting that the princess had vanished.<br><br>The castle was scoured, from the depths of the dungeons to the tops of the highest towers,<br>but Rosie was nowhere to be found. Riders were sent to check every corner of the kingdom, but<br>they returned empty-handed.<br><br>The king and queen mourned the loss of their daughter to her curse. The castle was<br>draped in yards of black fabric. The queen veiled herself, and the king did not emerge from his<br>chambers for a month.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Far away from the castle of Shirodor, in a comfortably furnished apartment in the<br>kingdom of Deamid, Rosie woke from the best slumber of her life. She sat up, stretched, and<br>walked to her little window, looking out at eye level over the bustle of the village.<br><br>It was possible, Rosie thought, that she had saved herself by being her own true love\u2014<br>but she thought it far more likely that everyone who had ever told her she needed true love to be<br>saved was an idiot.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Congratulations to our winner of the March 2023 Writing Challenge, &#8220;The Rainbow Rose&#8221; by Sam Kostakis. This piece is an aromatic retelling of the classic Sleeping Beauty fairytale. The prompt&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2808,"featured_media":2501,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_kad_post_transparent":"","_kad_post_title":"","_kad_post_layout":"","_kad_post_sidebar_id":"","_kad_post_content_style":"","_kad_post_vertical_padding":"","_kad_post_feature":"","_kad_post_feature_position":"","_kad_post_header":false,"_kad_post_footer":false,"_kad_post_classname":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4,19,63],"tags":[24,56,65,67,82,83,41,62,64],"class_list":["post-2500","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-about-writing","category-fiction","category-writing-challenge-winners","tag-diversity","tag-emerson","tag-fantasy","tag-fantasy-writing","tag-folklore","tag-mythology","tag-writing","tag-writing-challenge","tag-writing-challenge-winner"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2500","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2808"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2500"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2500\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2502,"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2500\/revisions\/2502"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2501"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2500"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2500"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/orgs.emerson.edu\/undergraduate-students-publishing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2500"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}