„Strange Maze, what is this place?
I hear voices over my shoulder
Nothing’s makin‘ sense at all
Wonder, why do we race?“
The night was dark. The moonlight did barely make it through the thick layer of clouds. The forest was lying there, restless. Rustling had become the music of the night. From time to time, there was a scream. Or a voice, who thought it would be talking to somebody. Steps, which followed a path. Figures, walking around. Lost or restless looking for something. A game without a sense, in an endless labyrinth, ruled by darkness.
A song, that sounds in the night.
And the world seemed to stand still, at least for a moment.
„When everyday we're runnin' in circles
Such a funny way to fall
Tried to open up my eyes
I'm hopin' for a chance to make it alright“
The voice, which cut through the night, was hard to describe. It was neither high nor deep. There was pain in it, but there also was hope. It somehow touched the hearts of the creatures of the forest; the creatures of this strange world. Even the darkest souls paused for a second. A strange magic.
There were steps again. Rushed, someone was running. Then there was a gasp, lungs that were struggling to breathe. Suddenly it stopped with a dull sound. Something did thud down on the ground.
The tangle of voices; voices of the lunatics, which had gone mad in this place of darkness. The ones that were still looking for a way out, and the ones, that didn’t give up all the hope yet and were just eking out their existence.
„When I wake up, the dream isn’t done
I wanna see your face and know I made it home
If nothing is sure, what more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you“
The voice that was singing belonged to a man. Holding a brush in his hand, he was standing on a glade, surrounded by a hedge of thorns. A green, that seemed to be black at night, but without any blossoms. Red liquid was pouring out of a cut on his pale arm; Blood that was absorbed with the brush. With experienced movements, he was painting a flower; the blossom of a rose, painted in the dark color of his blood.
„Show you my cards, gave you my heart
Wish we could start all over
Nothing’s makin‘ sense at all
Tried to open up my eyes
I’m hopin‘ for a chance to make it alright“
She was lying in the center of the glade. Her skin was white; her hair was shining like gold in the night. Her body was wrapped up in a black dress. Her bed was the cold ground.
The young man really wished he could make it more comfortable for her.
It hurt him to know that he would never get her back again. This knowledge was the reason why his blood was still flowing. And it was his blood that painted the rose on the hedge. But the blossoms wilted, as soon as he took the brush away. It was a never ending circle.

Darkness was lying over the forest this night. It was a night like all the others. And again, he was singing his song. Everyone was listening. It fascinated them, even though it couldn’t stop all the madness and darkness.
The breath of the women on the ground was already gone for a long time. Life left her. And with the death of her, the forest fell into darkness. The hedge of thorns was protecting her and her prince.
He was drowning in his sorrow and loneliness, in the darkness that would never leave. In the night that would never get to an end. Surrounded by the voices of all the madmen, the rustling of the plants, the steps and the screams. And in the middle of all this noise, his song sounded again and again and again.
„When I wake up, the dream isn’t done
I wanna see your face and know I made it home
If nothing is sure, what more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you
I am still painting flowers for you“
The flowers disappeared again. They needed the light to be able to stay. But there was no way for them to live in a world without light. So they wilted. In vain the young prince tried to bring them back again and again. But he couldn’t.
But his princess had loved roses so much. In a dark red, exactly like the color of the blood he was using to paint them.
The wind messed a little bit with his brown hair, played with it. His skin was shining like porcelain.
„I heard everything you say
I don’t wanna lose my head“
The reason why his skin was shining was hope. A hope that died with his princess. However it did still exist, right next to his love that had stayed in his heart.
A high scream cut through the night, got mixed to his voice. Every time the song was unique and every time the pain grew.
The women with the golden hair had a smile on her lips. A tear was released from her closed eyes and found its way down her cheek. She was dead. But somehow she was still there. The part of her that lived in the prince’s heart was still there, with him. And she shared his pain, even though she couldn’t ease it.

And the prince painted another flower on the dark hedge.
And darkness covered the forest like a thick blanket.
And his voice faded after the last line of the song.
And all the other voices still didn’t disappear.
„When I wake up, the dream isn’t done
I wanna see your face and know I made it home
If nothing is sure, what more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you
I am still painting flowers for you
I am still painting flowers for you“

Notes

Please don't be to hard on me. >.< I bet there are tons of mistakes in it. Since I'm from germany, english isn't my first language so it's kinda hard for me to use it for storys but I still wanted to give it a try.
Hope some of you like it though <3
xoxo