Written by Kasey
Korth
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
Rose stood in the D Deck
reception area of Titanic, waiting while Cal found a steward to direct them to their
suite. He was, of course, causing a scene because they hadn’t been shown to
their rooms yet. There Rose stood, staring off at a painting on the wall. It
was of a garden, green and flowering. She stared, wondering if there was such a
place as that. It looked so peaceful, so carefree. A white bench was in the
middle, with a small water fountain next to it. Birds were at the fountain, and
on the ground around the bench. In the background, there was a forest of
greenery, with a small opening in the middle towards the top. The sun was
peeking through, shedding light on the bench and the fountain. Rose still
stared, and imagined herself sitting on that very bench, watching the birds
bathe and eat, and soaking in the warm rays of the sun. She wished that she could
be there. At least there she could do as she pleased.
Her maid roused her from her
fantasy, and she followed her mother and Cal mechanically down the white walled
hallway as her heart returned to its listless state. She looked down at the
floor in front of her, covered in a dark maroon flower-printed carpet. Her
shoes were silent when she walked.
Rose stepped silently into the
room and stepped aside to let her maid in behind her. The room was brightly
lit, and stewardesses were placing vases of fresh flowers on the mantle before
her. All the wood was a deep mahogany--the mantle, the walls, the tables, the
legs on the chairs, the doors. Above the mantel was a mirror as wide as the
mantel itself. Rose watched the bustling people about the room through the
mirror, noticing how no one seemed to notice the others. They all moved about,
hauling in trunks, directing stewards, and directing the unpacking. Rose set
her parasol aside and removed the pins from her hair and hideous hat. She held
the oversized hat in her hands for a few moments, and realized it felt like a
huge restraining order on her. She set the hat aside next to the parasol, and
looked back at the mirror. People were still moving about like before, and
still no one stopped for a warm hello, or even to care. The room turned gray,
and Rose felt that she wanted to scream out, but something held her back.
Something she didn't like, something she hated with a passion. She took a
breath, gently holding her stomach against the restraint of her corset. In the
mirror Rose saw her mother directing a steward with crates in her direction.
She saw her mother with her charlatan face.
The steward stopped in front of
Rose and opened the crate for her. Rose watched him as he pulled out one of her
paintings. The room filled with color again, and Rose took hold of it. Her eyes
drank in the beauty of the Monet she was holding, and her heart was alive. The
greens and pinks and purples danced before her eyes, and for a moment, she felt
like she could smile.
The End.
