Moonlight & Roses

Ramona's story...

Ramona stood in her grandmother's garden on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. She watched Grandmother move between the rose bushes with practiced grace. The full moon hung low and heavy above them. It cast silver light across the dew-kissed petals. Enchantment danced on a warm summer breeze.

"The roses know, dear one," her grandmother said. Her silver hair glowed like a halo in the moonlight as she spoke. "They'll tell you when they're ready to be picked." She gestured for Ramona to come closer. "Close your eyes. Listen with your heart, not your ears."

Ramona closed her eyes, feeling foolish at first. But then... a whisper. No, more like a song. Each rose hummed in a different pitch. But one... one sang more clearly than the rest.

"That one," Ramona pointed, eyes still closed. "It's... singing?"

Her grandmother's smile was warm with pride. "Yes. That's the one that's ready to share its magic." She guided Ramona's hand to the stem. "Remember, we don't take - we receive. The rose offers itself to the tea."

The thorns curved away from Ramona's fingers as she clipped the perfect bloom. Steam was already rising from the copper kettle her grandmother had placed beneath the moon's fullest light.

"Now," her grandmother removed her treasured locket - the one that never left her neck - and held it out. "It's time you learned our family's most guarded recipe. Moonlight and roses, yes, but there's a third ingredient that makes the magic bind."

With trembling fingers, Ramona accepted the locket. It was warm to the touch, pulsing gently like a tiny heartbeat. As it fell into her palm, she felt the years of magic stored within - generations of witches, of mothers and daughters, grandmothers and granddaughters, all connected through this single piece of jewelry.

Her grandmother gently guided her hands to open the locket. Inside, instead of a photo, there was a single teardrop crystal, clear as morning dew but with swirls of rose-gold dancing within its depths.

"A tear of joy," her grandmother whispered. "Shed by our ancestor long long ago, when she first discovered her magic. She captured that joy in this crystal, and it's been passed down ever since. One drop in the tea, charged by moonlight, blessed by the freely-given rose - that's what makes our tea special. That intention is what makes it heal the body, the heart, and refresh the spirit."

Ramona watched as her grandmother carefully removed the crystal, holding it up to the moonlight. A single drop fell into the steaming kettle, and the water instantly turned a soft rose-gold color.

"The crystal never empties," her grandmother explained, "because joy, like love, is infinite when shared." She placed the locket around Ramona's neck. "Now it's yours. As is the responsibility of keeping this magic alive. Remember - the roses must sing, the moon must be full, and the tear must be given freely, just as our ancestor gave hers."

As the tear merged with the moonlit water, her grandmother took Ramona's hands in hers, positioning them to hold the locket up to the full moon's light. The crystal within caught the silvery beams, scattering them like stardust across the garden.

"Now, dear one, comes the heart of the magic. The words must flow from your spirit as freely as the rose gave its bloom, as purely as the tear gives its joy. Listen and repeat after me..."

Her grandmother's voice took on a melodic quality, and Ramona felt the garden grow still, as if nature itself was listening:

"By moonlight and roses, by joy freely given,

I speak these words to earth and to heaven:

I am joyful…

let joy and happiness fill our heart space,

Like moonbeams dancing with infinite grace.

I am grateful…

let gratitude fill your spirit whole,

Like roses blooming deep in your soul.

I am loved…

feel love bubble and comfort you near,

Like the warmth of the crystal tear.

I am compassionate…

feel the connection grow strong,

To earth and her creatures, where we all belong.

By crystal tear and midnight flower,

By ancient wisdom and gentle power,

Let this tea bring healing true,

As I will it, so may it do."

As Ramona repeated the words, the tea in the kettle began to shimmer with an inner light, and the rose petals swirled in a dance. The locket grew warm against her palms, and she could feel the magic humming through her entire being.

"The incantation," her grandmother explained softly, "is both blessing and promise. Each line awakens a different aspect of the tea's magic, but more importantly, it awakens those same qualities within yourself. For you cannot give what you do not possess, and you cannot heal what you do not understand."

Together, they watched as the rose petals curled and danced in the moonlit water, releasing their essence into the tea. The garden filled with a sweet, ethereal fragrance that seemed to whisper ancient secrets on the night breeze.

Ramona touched the locket, now hanging warm against her chest, and knew that she was part of something larger than herself - a legacy of healing, of joy, of magic passed from hand to hand & heart to heart. Through generations of women who understood the delicate balance between giving and receiving, between moonlight and roses, between tears and smiles.

"Thank you, Grandmother," Ramona whispered, and in the moonlight, she could have sworn she saw not just her grandmother's smile, but the smiles of all the women who had worn this locket before her. Their love and wisdom shimmering upon her like stardust in the garden air.

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BONUS STORY …

Once upon a time, a long time ago, a writer used VSS365 (very short story) prompts, to tell a story on classic Twitter. It lasted over a year & became The Forgotten Queen.

One word story prompts are on Substack too, and just for fun there is a new story taking shape.

Prompt #1 Dog

Moxie’s bark rang through the air like ripples on a pond. She created shimmering prisms that hung mid-air. The edges danced with starlight.

The disc spun into a liquid mercury mirror. My reflection changed like a rom-com montage. First, I stood staring back into my own eyes in a land with crystalline forests, then floating islands, then cities built from light.

My new rescue nuzzled my leg & then leaped through our reflection. Some rescue dogs fetch sticks. Mine rescued me from the horror story taking shape in this world on inauguration day.

I jumped after her and called out, “Wait for me Moxie!”

Prompt #2 House

My left foot perched on the rocky edge of land drifting through cotton candy clouds. Moxie bound up a hill toward a stone cabin.

The exterior flashed like rainbow opals, smooth & lustrous. Purple tendrils reached toward Moxie's paws. She pounced and played, with the vines? Aromas of sweet sage & pine danced in the breeze as the purple vine snaked over the porch and opened the door.

As I followed Moxie, my eyes noticed well worn paw prints on the steps to the door.

“Is this your home girl?”

Prompt #3 glove

My winter attire was clearly too much for summer in this floating sanctuary. As I unwound my scarf and peeled off my gloves, the floating island wobbled. I stumbled and caught myself against the cabin wall. A shimmering stone warmed my palm.

A flash burned inside my mind. My mahogany hands clung to a placard. Icy cold water stung like bees on my cheeks. I stood before a snarling dog. Shouts split my thoughts & sounds bled into static. Water pressure punched my chest, stealing my breath. Queenie's bark cracked reality open.

Prompt #4 horn

Queenie's teeth found my sleeve and yanked me to safety beyond the water canon's direct pressure.

The frightening vision evaporated. Moxie was warm against my leg. Her ears perked as the cabin stones hummed. Phantom water dripped from memories that were not my own.

Did I just horn in on another person's life? Loretta Scott. I was Loretta Scott, Alabama, 60's. I looked down at Moxie leaning on my leg. You were Queenie.

Prompt #5 HOUSE

Curious how this has become my world now. If one stone holds this memory, do the others as well?

This house of whispers and echoes, of breaths held and released. A sanctuary where memories dance between stone and vine and trauma transforms into resilience.

Each stone holds space for every voice silenced? Every story suppressed?

This floating island is more than geography - it's memory made manifest. A living archive breathing hope into forgotten narratives.

Prompt #6 Trapped

Each memory is trapped within the stones, pressing against their crystalline walls like breath against glass. Not mere memories - but the very essence of those who lived them. What is my role here?

The stones aren't passive. They pulse with unspoken stories, passion & purpose. Has Moxie been guiding me here, to this moment.

Witnessing can not be the goal. Conduit? Release? Release what? The stories? The pain? The hope?

Moxie's eyes meet mine. She knows something I'm just beginning to understand.

A clatter in the kitchen startled me. The purple tendrils were preparing tea.

Word prompt #7 Speaker.

The purple tendrils lured me in & danced to rhythms I couldn't hear. One cradled my teacup, as another soothed my aching shoulder. It must have sensed the weight that reverberated through me – I still carried Loretta's memory like an echo in my bones.

Maybe that is why I am here. Not just a witness, but a caretaker. A speaker for these stored stories. The thought settled over me like a warm weighted blanket, both comforting and heavy with responsibility.

The memory stones glowed softly in the fading sunlight, no longer just a record of pain, but a promise of healing. I was part of that promise now.

Prompt word knock

Moxie chased the playful tendrils, her tail wagging as violet vines danced just out of reach. The stones cast opal light across her fur & created an ethereal glow. She radiated joy and ancient wisdom. Is this unconditional love?

Knock

Knock

Knock

Three sharp raps against the front door. They startled this world. The memory stones pulsed with urgent light. Moxie's ears pricked forward. She stood still as a statue. The tendrils stilled their dance, then froze, holding my teacup suspended in mid-air.

Knock

Knock

Knock

Where will the story go? You tell me!

Really, I'd love your input. ♥️