Nightmares

A picture of London

I suddenly felt the urge to walk through the other exhibits that we had in the museum. I was walking around the rest of the small sections when out of the blue a small little painting caught my attention. As I got closer to it, I had the oddest feeling that I knew the lady who was the subject of the artist.  I was starting to feel a little light headed and decided to sit down in the London exhibit hall. All of a sudden, the room started to shift to a time back.

It was the middle of spring in London when I was asked to sit for one of the friends of my father so that I could be his muse for a painting he was working on. I was stuck sitting for too many hours so that he could get what he needed painted while the light was correct for him. I was getting tired of the dress that my parents had picked out for me to sit in and was about to get up to move.

                “Pardon me Francis, but is there any way that we might be able to move for a small moment? My back has become a little stiff sitting in this position for today. And I would love to go and see the roses that are in bloom before they have fallen out.” I asked as politely as I could while I was in pain from my back.

“But of course, Rose. Why didn’t you say something a while back? We could have had a walking tea to give your back a rest from all of this sitting. I tend to forget that I am actually painting a real person and not just someone from memory. Please forgive me for keeping you in this chair all afternoon while I have painted.” Replied Francis.

                “That is quite all right. But next time you pick me as your muse for a painting might we do it in a room inside the house where we have a couch that I can lay on while you don’t have to paint me?” I teased him while letting out a slight giggle.

“Why Miss Rose, it almost sounds like you are trying to jest with me!” He responded while smiling back at me.

                “I was only making conversation Sir. I would not be as bold as to say anything as to jest with you. What would my parent’s think if there were to hear us being so formal with each other?” I asked in a mild shocked voice.

“Well I would hope they would find it quite normal for the two of us after letting me spend the last four days painting their daughter.” Francis said with the same amount of shock in his voice.

                I couldn’t help the giggle that came out. He had offered me his arm to take a stroll to see the roses that were my pride and joy this time of year. As a present from my parents for my birthday the year before they had purchased me every type of rose that was available. I managed to have quite the arrangement of colors in my roses that would make any woman quite envious. I had even managed to mix a few of the colors together over the fall and winter months in my room and had grown a rose combination that had come out beautifully when it bloomed.

“Where on earth did you manage to acquire a rose of this color? In all my years of painting I have never come across something like this Miss Rose!” Inquired Francis.

                “If I am being truthful with you good Sir, I actually made that one myself this past few months. I took the pollen from a few different colors and got them to grow while I had it inside.” I replied to his question.

“That sounds like a feet of magic there Miss Rose.” Stated Francis.

                “Not truly. All one has to know is how flowers are made and you can actually do it for yourself. I have actually managed to make a few of the other flowers you have seen in this garden.” I answered to his statement.

“I meant no sourness about that Miss Rose. I was only meant as a joke.” Smiled Francis.

                “That is quite alright. Shall we finish our walk through the garden before we return to the painting?” I asked of Francis.

We kept walking for a little while and made our way bake to where the painting was. By the look of it he would hopefully be done with my part within the next few days and I would no longer have to sit most of the afternoon away as a statue.

The day came sooner than I thought that Francis told me that I was actually free to watch him paint the rest of the flowers in the background without needing me to sit for him. I was coming around the edge of the garden wall just past one of my newest flower bushes when a sharp pain happened to occur in my leg. I let out a small gasp at the pain and saw Francis and my father coming to see what was the matter with me. My leg started to feel a little strange and I told them I wished to go back to my room so that I could look at my leg. By the time I was in my room with my skirt out of the way to see my leg there was a black streak running up my leg. I screamed and my mother came running from her rooms.

“My sweet Rose what is wrong?” questioned my mother.

                “I was walking to see Francis finish his painting and the next thing I knew I was stabbed in the leg by one of my flower bushes. Now I have this black streak running up my leg from where the injury occurred.” I stated.

“We must call for the doctor at once. Do you remember what flowers you mixed together in this one my sweet?” Questioned my mother.

                “This one had red poppies and belladonna. I thought that the colors would look well together. I thought that I had managed to plant it farther back on the wall, but I guess it had a mind of its own and grew farther out than I thought it would.” I answered my mother with a small tear on my face.

“Oh, my sweet girl. I know you love your flowers so much, but maybe you shouldn’t have tried mixing those two together. I will send for the doctor as quickly as I can.” Said my mother.

With that said she ran out of the house to find one of our riders to fetch the doctor. I wasn’t sure if the rider would make it in time but I called for my father to come to my room so I could say goodbye to him if I didn’t have much longer.

“My sweet Rose, why do you seem as though I will not see you after the doctor gets here for your leg?” asked my father while he sat next to my bed.

                “It is not that I don’t have faith in the doctor father, it’s just that the flowers I mixed happens to not have a cure made for them. I am the only one crazy enough to have mixed the two together and the doctor won’t have the cure for them on hand.” I cried into my father’s shoulder as I said the truth of my flowers.

As he and I sat waiting for the doctor to get to my rooms I started to feel much colder. I smiled over at my parents who were scared for me. As I started to close my eyes, I could hear my mother screaming and crying, but I also thought I saw Francis in the hall crying as well.

I came to and I was passed out on the bench in the London exhibit section. I was trying to gather how long I had been there for, but it looked like I had only been there by myself for a few minutes.