<![CDATA[Fiction as Life]]>https://fictionaslife.comhttps://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!rq4R!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F5393b4fa-3eb8-48bc-9f7b-b8090152bf18_750x750.pngFiction as Lifehttps://fictionaslife.comSubstackTue, 28 Apr 2026 09:49:29 GMT<![CDATA[Young Rose]]>https://fictionaslife.com/p/young-rosehttps://fictionaslife.com/p/young-roseSun, 26 Apr 2026 14:20:59 GMTGloria tended her grandchildren as she did her roses: enjoying the beauty, avoiding the thorns. And Chelsea seemed to be more thorns than beauty these days. When she wasn’t staring into space, she was openly defiant and refused to participate in school. When she did her homework, she didn’t turn it in. Gloria wondered if Chelsea would have to repeat first grade.

Homeschooling would be her solution. This child needed more attention, more nurturing than a cold classroom afforded. She would never bloom in that school. Chelsea was a rosebud that needed coaxing to shine, like her father.

2-2015-05-21 07.41.04

This is a piece of short fiction I originally published at fictionaslife.wordpress.com and at carrotranch.com in 2015.

June 3, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a rose. It can be straight-forward, romantic, funny. What is your rose today and what is its story? Who craves the rose or shrinks away? Why? Let the prompt fully bloom in your imagination.

Subscribe now

]]>