About This Author
*Bullet* Kiya is a young woman with many interests. She's got a degree in Computer Science and Registered Nursing.
*Bullet* She's an avid reader and considers Stephen King one of her favorite authors. *Bullet* She's also been known to pen one or two stories here and there, and as a proud moderator of Writing.Com, she invites you to check out her portfolio (and even better, to sign up today!).


Published Works:

The Rose
Prompt: Write about a long-stemmed rose
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         They laughed and made fun of her; called her buck teeth because she refused to wear braces, called her four-eyes because of the glasses she wore. Her hair was limp brown strings that fell over her narrow face.

         She smelled funny too – a mixture of boiled cabbage and age, as if she had just stepped out of an old attic. She dressed in long ugly skirts – a pitiful throwback to the sixties. The blouses she wore were always oversized, hiding flat breasts that didn’t even warrant a second glance.

         And yet, she fascinated me.

         Maybe it was because she was the only one who had scored the highest in the most difficult Chem. test, or maybe it was because of the quiet air about her- an eerie ambience that followed her wherever she went. Even though she shuffled sometimes, there was still a regality about her that no other girl in school could touch.

         Valentine’s Day arrived, and as usual the school was a hive of excited girls, squealing and screaming in delight at the boxes of chocolates, bright balloons, or bunches of flowers they got from their boyfriends. But for her, it was just going to be another day. No one was going to get anything for her, and she didn’t expect anything…especially not the single long-stemmed red rose that sat waiting on her desk that warm Monday morning.

         It was only for a brief moment, but that smile – that small beautiful smile of pleasure she gave still has my heart beating till this day. I never did tell her who sent the rose, but I think she knows, for every night before we go to bed, she kisses me and mutters a soft ‘thank you’- a ritual she has never missed since our wedding day ten years ago.


Word Count: 300
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