Well, I’m bored again, brilliant. My solution? Share a story.
Be wary, my dear friend, of the white roses. Despite their sweet smell, they obliterate your very soul. The devil resides in them. The owner of this land previous to me had fallen ill to a sickness of the mind. First he took the corpses of two dead snakes, saying they were used in rituals I shall not speak of. The accursed roses were planted on these snakes of the devil. Then he took water from the tainted stream and showered it over them every Sabbath. And he did the unspeakable. Raped his wife, he did. Her dead blood he then spilled over the roses. I know, because he told me. Yet it does not stop there. He took the lives of every young virgin he could find, and slit their wrists to water them. Murderer, assassin, mad man, he was all.
In the fall, he took the hips to make white rose tea. In that way, he killed his father with the tainted rose tea. In that way, he became the new husband of his father’s new wife. He was only caught in the last year of his life, the sick bastard. He used the perfume from the roses to intoxicate everyone on the estate, so they would not tell nor remember his diabolical practices. Mad men rule our country. Be wary, my dear friend, of the white roses.