Purple Rose

Ladies, beware of the purple rose left on your pillow to find when you open your eyes. Its beauty hides a secret you will soon discover — turning your hair white and driving you insane. According to legend, once left, before you know it, you will be tormented to the point of death.

For years ago, in the youth of your mothers, a young girl wore her heart on her sleeve, declaring her love to her heart’s attraction. Dressing in her finest, lining her eyes, she gave her passion some purple roses. Shy, as a deer, she offered her love only to have it degraded.

In a cruel twist of fate, the object of her affection laughed in her sweet young face, blurting out she’d rather be dead than love the young girl. Many witnessed the exchange, raising the poor girl for even more ridicule. They laughed her out of existence, for unable to face the world, she took her own life.

Now, she roams the halls, looking for someone who resembles her desire. When she finds the soul fated for her, she leaves a rose on their pillow—the same purple rose she tried to give to her love. Once the ill-fated rose is placed, the haunting begins.

The haunting starts with phone calls from beyond the grave, progressing steadily to the main haunt, appearing in full detail as she appeared when she leaped to her death. She leaves her object of affection, doubting their sanity with her many appearances — burning them with her soulless stare. With her moaning, she freezes their hearts, making them wish they were dead. She leaves them a used-up husk, discarded as if they were trash, sitting in a vegetative state, tearing at their prematurely white hair. Forever stuck in their minds.

Many have been victims of her affection. None have survived through them. She sends each of them over the edge, some even opting for death to be released from her clutches. So, beware, ladies, beware the purple rose.