It took quite some time for my roses to change. At first, it was so subtle that I thought that perhaps I was killing them instead of evolving them, but eventually, the scarlet petals began to change; blackening at first, until the petals began to have a beautiful blue tinge.

Every single night, however, she still visited, taking careful pick of the flowers. I had grown accustomed to her coming and looked forward to seeing her once the sun had set and the moon had risen.

I was even filled with the insane notion of donning my mask and cloak and going to talk to her. I wanted so badly to interact with her again, but I knew I couldn't. I hid in my lonely home for a reason. I couldn't show her me, the real me.

I wanted to help her select the flowers; the most beautiful ones were closer to my door. I wanted to feel her warmth and talk to her. But I couldn't without my mask. I had no name she could call me.  I didn't deserve her smile or the pure light she radiated. I was too afraid to even attempt talking to her.

I was ugly, disfigured. A monster. She was too beautiful for someone like me.

All I could do, was sit in my window and watch her in my garden, taking the flowers that were almost as pretty as her.

Once the sun had reared it's head, I carefully took my new roses down to the garden. In an area near the gate, a little distanced from the red roses, I re-planted the moonlight roses that I had made for her. I had created them in her image, yet they still didn't do her beauty justice.

However, I was pleased. They would be able to sell for more than regular roses. Stepping back, I surveyed my other plants. I would change those, as well, for her.

I was excited as the sun began to go to it's bed for the night. I couldn't wait to see her reaction to the flowers. I was anxious for her to pluck the first flower from it's home and place it in her basket.

But, she didn't come.

I waited and waited, but this night, my beautiful rose thief didn't squeeze through the gaps in the bars of the gate with her basket and shears. She didn't grace me with her presence.

I was disappointed and sad, but also I was hit by loneliness like I had never felt before. I was worried but believed that perhaps she didn't need to come this night. Maybe she was having a well deserved rest.

She didn't come the next night, or the next.

Without thinking, when the morning arrived, I put on my cloak and mask and headed to the town.

It was strangely quiet. There were few people wandering the streets and she wasn't stood on the corner with her beautiful smile and basket of my pretty flowers.

All of a sudden, a sound broke the uneasy quiet of the morning. Church bells.

There was another sound behind me and I stepped to the side, looking back. A small carriage, drawn by a black horse was making its way towards me and as it passed, my eyes widened behind my mask.

On the carriage was a simple coffin adorned with red roses. My red roses.

A mass of people dressed in black walked behind the carriage as it headed in the direction of the church and I just stood wide eyed as it passed. I had hope in my heart - I prayed in my heart, that she was with the quiet mourners. But she was not.

Then, I realised what my truest fear was. The stragglers at the back of the crowd were talking. I heard them speak about how everyone had put together the beautiful roses they had brought from her to place on her coffin. She had loved them so much, and they had brought them to help her as she wouldn't accept free help. They thought the best way to honour her life was to dress her eternal resting place in the beautiful flowers that she had loved so much.

I just stood silently as the towns people slowly vanished into the church. It began to rain and I could feel the cold seeping through my cloak, but still, I stood. My face beneath it's ridiculous mask grew wet, and I finally turned and trudged slowly back to my lonely home.

That night, I was still half-expecting her to show up, but she didn't.

If I had the courage to stand before her, would everything be different now? Would she still be here, selecting roses by moonlight?

Instead, due to my fear and weakness, I was sat crying in the window, staring out at my garden. A man left alone, looking at a broken mask in the night. I hated my lack of courage and my ugliness.

Yet, I still wanted her. I still missed her. I still expected her to come to my lonely garden and pick a rose almost as pretty as her. But she never would. She would never grace me with her warm presence again. She was gone.

My beautiful rose thief.

END

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AN: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed