The colour of death. The colour of darkness, The colour of misery. The colour of fear. Black. A black rose. The young girl held the rose close as she wandered around and around the same room, getting no where. 'Such a sad little thing...' She thought as she gazed down at the black flower. She wanted to get rid of it. Badly. But for some reason, she felt drawn to it, like a bee is drawn to a flower. But flowers weren't black and Cycil was not a bee. She slid against the wall until she lay on the floor, looking up at the empty ceiling. She held up her rose in front of the blinding light emitting from the single lantern in the room. She sighed.