Thorn
Bellatrice’s grimy old flat on the small town’s outskirts was falling apart, mainly thanks to roach-infested walls and rotten wood beams. Bellatrice led a meager life, but that was fine. She could always visit the library and read books— her joy and inspiration— and besides, she’d never believed she was destined for creaky floorboards and rodent roommates. Who would ever want to resign themselves to such a miserable life? Not Bellatrice! So she worked tirelessly to escape her flat, waitressing by day and writing short stories by night. With enough effort, she believed, she would be rewarded with success; she would prove the Power of Perseverance.
But try as she might, her situation only deteriorated. Time flew by, leaving Bellatrice in the dust with two months behind on rent. Her short stories were rejected from every single publisher. And to sprinkle salt on the wound, the local kids had started calling her Bellatrix after watching Harry Potter. However, this didn’t deter her; Bellatrice remained hopeful and pressed on, certain that her Dark Ages would end shortly with enough effort and resilience.
One night, Bellatrice was hurrying home as per usual when she spotted something peculiar in the bushes. Nestled between the dull leaves and spindly branches was a bright red rose, as flawless and radiant as the full moon overhead. On impulse she picked it and inhaled its intoxicating fragrance, which left her slightly light-headed as if she’d drank the moon. Suddenly feeling much better, Bellatrice tucked the rose inside her bag and headed home.
The next morning, Bellatrice did a double take when she glanced in the bathroom mirror— a breathtakingly gorgeous, definitely-not-Bellatrice face was staring back at her. In disbelief, Bellatrice moved her arms, touched her face, and did a little jig to see if she really looked like what her mirror said she did. What had happened? It must have been the rose, right? There’s no other explanation. It must have been magic or som—
Brrrring! Her alarm— she’d miss the bus in five minutes! Jolted out of her thoughts, Bellatrice dashed out the door. But even as she hurried towards the bus station, she couldn’t help but notice the stares that others were giving her on the street. She barely made it onto the bus, breathless and wheezing. Soon after, a tall mustachioed man across the aisle waved at her and handed her a business card. It read: Gaston LeMarc, Casting Director. Valdez Film Studios, 6834 Hollywood Blvd.
A casting director? From Hollywood? Why would a casting director be here?
“Hey miss, have you ever considered acting?” Gaston LeMarc interrupted her thoughts.
“Um.. no?” Bellatrice cautiously replied.
“Well, would you be interested?”
“I guess so. I don’t h—”
“Great! Can I have your name and email?”
Bellatrice instinctively hid her real name. “Belle. I’m Belle. And this is my email.”
“Thank you, we’ll be in touch shortly,” promised Gaston. He got off at the next stop.
For the rest of the day, Bellatrice moved like a dazed monkey. Had she just been street-cast? After all these years, was her life finally turning around?
*** TWO YEARS LATER ***
The old Bellatrice was gone, replaced by Movie Star Belle. Her debut as the lead actress in a Disney live-action remake had blown up in theaters worldwide, making her an overnight sensation. In her whirlwind rise to stardom, she’d been immersed in unimaginable luxury and fame; her face was all over the Internet, her social media profiles had tens of thousands of followers, and everyone showered her with admiration. But it all felt hollow— everyone admired Belle, not Bellatrice. They loved the breathtaking beauty on the big screen, not the hardworking bookworm. Nobody cared about Bellatrice’s struggles, years of toil, or the unwavering resilience she’d been so proud of— people only saw Belle’s rose-induced beauty.
Gradually, Belle stopped reading, and began to doubt her past self. If a single rose could change her fate while years of hard work only made things worse, was perseverance even worth it? Maybe none of it had even mattered. Maybe she had toiled for nothing. Maybe ‘seize the day’ meant you should live for today only; maybe it meant taking on present hardship for future growth is foolish. Believing in the future is foolish. The Power of Perseverance is a scam. Humans only ever care about appearances, never what’s on the inside; and therefore, what’s on the inside can never change a person. Effort isn’t enough, and will never be. Never…
It was only then, bitter and disillusioned, that Belle finally noticed the rose’s sharp thorns.
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