My Fair Lady

Harry crawled into his four poster bed and turned out the light. But not before looking at a picture of his mother. He glanced at the picture of her, smiled, and felt himself falling asleep, falling down...

He felt himself shrinking, and he felt a warm lap under him. Two milky cushions beneath him and two locks of red hair on his little shoulder were present. He looked up into his mother's green eyes. He looked around and saw a rosebush. A beautiful rosebush, covered in fat, red roses! But the thorns! They were so scary! He backed into his mother's chest and looked up at her smile. He opened his mouth, and a little, five year old voice came out.

"Mummy."

"Hello, Harry. Want me to let you go so you can play?"

"I can get down all by myself now Mummy!"

He climbed off of his mother's lap and imagined he was a knight, and she was his fair lady. He heard his fair maid laugh with joy, and he turned back and smiled at her.

He galloped down the alabaster steps of the castle and into the courtyard. There, there was a magic rose tree. The roses were the most beautiful and sought flowers in the land. Many a lad and knight looked many a year for this rare and wondrous tree, but all failed.

He, Sir Harry of England would be the first to prevail, and he would retrieve a rose from this enchanted shrub for his fair, scarlet haired lady, with the Eyes to shame shamrocks. He looked around the courtyard, and saw luscious trees, exotic flowers, and even a waterfall! (it was really one of those little backyard fountains) He saw not a trace of the fabled rose tree. Saddened, Sir Harry bowed his head. In all five years of his life he had not felt such sorrow. Now, he'd have no gift to present to his radiant lady.

He looked up to the castle, where the fair maid was looking sweetly at him. He brightened instantly. He looked around, and behold!

The rose tree!

It was ten feet tall and covered in roses. Near the bottom, there were roses the color of his lady's hair. They looked like his lady. They were pale white, but blushing on the bottom petals, and the scarlet on the tips of the top petals. He reached out for one and was pierced by a thorn. Blast! Crimson liquid poured from his wound, but he cared not. He pulled on the rose, and fell backward, causing another injury, in which a bruise would blossom on his backside the next day. But lo! The rose was in his hand! Success! He grinned ear to ear and raised the rose. He heard his fair lady laugh from afar. Turning, he saw her clapping and smiling in celebration.

"Oh, Bravo Sir Harry! Bravo!"

He ran up the castle steps and handed the gift to his lady fair. She breathed its scent and then placed it on the castle railing. And she lifted him.

"Oh, Harry. My baby, my knight."

She hugged him close, and he smelled her perfume.

Roses.

Harry woke, and saw the picture of his mother, and remembered that he wasn't five, she was dead, and it was all a dream.

The best damn dream he ever had.

And he put his face in his pillow and cried.