Once upon a time, there was a man, a simple man, the simplest man in the whole world. But this simple man was holding a great power in his hands! He was  a man in love.

Every night, he ran to the source of his power and begged her to spare him a look!

"Spare me a look, my love," he cried every night. "Spare me a look or I will die."

And every night a look he received, and he went to sleep with a smile on his lips.

But as the nights passed, he started wanting more.

The look became a touch, and the touch became a kiss.

And the kiss brought joy.

Once upon a time, there was a woman, a simple woman, the simplest woman in the whole world. But this simple woman was carrying a great fear in her heart! She was a poor woman.

Every night, a man appeared outside her window. And every night, this man begged for a look.

And every night, under the moonlight, the woman spared him a look.

But as the nights passed, the man begged for more.

The look became a touch, and the touch became a kiss.

And the kiss brought fear.

And one night, a simple night, the woman cried to the man.

"For a look you begged on the first night, for a touch you begged on the second night and for a kiss you are begging now. You foolish man, don’t you know that a kiss has a price?" cried the woman with fear in her heart.

"For a look I begged on the first night, and you kindly gave it to me. For a touch I begged on the second night, and you kindly gave it to me. For a kiss I am begging tonight, and you are placing a price on it?" cried the man blinded by love. "For a kiss, I will give you anything. Name it, my fair lady, and I will never rest until your wish comes true."

"I wish for a black rose," said the woman. "Bring me a black rose, and a kiss you will receive."

Encouraged by the power of love, the man lost no time. He packed his things,  put on his metal boots and hid his trusty dagger in his clothes. For months he travelled, for almost a year, to find the black rose his maiden requested.

But there was no black rose to be found.

He searched in the city, he searched in the villages, he passed the hills, he passed the mountains, he  crossed the rivers, he crossed the sea.

But there was no black rose to be found.

His food supplies were finished, his metal boots melted, but his trusty dagger stood still sharp, still under his clothes, still like his love for the maiden.

“You foolish man, did you forget you are a human?” cried the trees.

“I might be a human, but my heart is blessed by Eros,” said the man.

“You foolish man, come lie on me,” begged the ground.

“I can’t rest. No sleep for me until a black rose I hold in my hands,” replied the man, and he kept walking deeper into the woods.

The river that crossed the land of the forest heard the conversation and took pity on the foolish man. Inspired by his passion, it cried to him, “Follow me, you foolish man. A witch lives in our forest. I shall take you to her and she might be able to give you the black rose you heart desires.”

“Thank you, river, thank you,” said the man. And, without wasting any time, he followed the river.

And as the river had promised him, he found an old, filthy shack in the middle of the forest.

“Here lies the witch, here she mates with the devil, here she hides from human eyes,” said the river. “Now I must go, you foolish man. I wish you wealth and luck,” said the river, and left to sing the story of a man in love that was searching for a black rose.

Mad from love, the man entered the wooden house.

“Does the witch that mates with the devil lie here?” he asked as he entered inside.

“Here she lies.” Like an echo, the witch replied.

“Where are you?” asked the man. “Show yourself,” he demanded.

A laugh he heard, and the witch appeared in front of his eyes.

“What is the traveller's demand?” the witch asked as she approached him. “Does he wish to mate with the witch?" she said, and laughed. "Oh, no, his heart belongs to another!” she cried with joy.

“A black rose his heart desires, and a black rose he will receive if he agrees to play with the witch. Fear not, traveller, her face. The witch can change so the traveller can lie with the witch with no guilt.”

“I can’t,” murmured the man.

“But a black rose you desire,” said the witch, and in no time, a black rose appeared in her hands. “Why do you tremble, young man? I though your love gave you courage, but maybe your love is not strong enough,” laughed the witch.

“If I lie with you," said the man, "will you give me the black rose?”

In the shadows, the witch's eyes glowed.

“Yes,” she whispered.

And a black rose the man received.

He is crossing the sea, he is crossing the rivers, he is passing the mountains, he is passing the hills, he is going through the villages, and he is going through the cities.

Full of love, full of madness, the man runs and runs with a black rose in his hand.

Underneath the window of his beloved one, he cries in joy, "For a look I begged on the first night, and you kindly gave it to me. For a touch I begged on the second night, and you kindly gave it to me. For a kiss I begged on the third night, and a price you placed on it. A black rose you requested, and a black rose I have brought you. In the name of my endless love for you, young maiden, I have crossed the world just so I can offer you a black rose.”

“For a look you begged on the first night, for a touch you begged on the second night, for a kiss you begged on the third night and a price I placed on it. A black rose I requested and a black rose you have brought me. In the name of your endless love for me, you crossed the world to find the black rose I desired. Then your love must be pure and truthful. You may have your kiss,” says the woman, and gives the man a kiss.

The kiss he so passionately had desired.

The kiss she unconsciously feared.

The kiss didn’t sate the man’s desire. On the contrary, his desire grew, and the more in love he felt, the more he demanded.

The black rose didn’t allay the woman’s fear. On the contrary, her fear grew, and the more scared she felt, the more black roses she demanded.

Every night, he kept coming to the woman’s window and begging for more.

For every demand he expressed, the woman requested another black rose.

And the man, full in love, brought her the roses she requested.

For each black rose, the man went through the cities, he went through the villages, he passed the hills, he passed the mountains, he crossed the rivers and he crossed the sea.

For each black rose, the man lay with the witch.

And with each black rose he brought, the hungrier the man got.

And with each black rose she received, the sicker the woman got.

And the day came that the man begged for her hand, and the woman requested a last black rose.

Once again the man went through the cities, he went through the villages, he passed the hills, he passed the mountains, he crossed the rivers and he crossed the sea.

Once again he entered the witch’s old shack, and lay with her for the last time.

And the day of his marriage arrived and the man felt joy.

The whole village gathered under the woman’s window.

The women dressed in red and yellow dresses, the men dressed in blue and green trousers.

They decorated their bodies with colourful ribbons. And, full in colour, they danced day and night.

The women played tabors and the men played mandolins. The wise man of the village played the clarinet and the children kept the rhythm with their small hands.

And, as if they were one, the whole village sang with joy.

And the day of her marriage arrived, and the woman felt sad.

“What a colourful parade awaits me. But one colour is missing, the most important one,” thought the woman as she lay by her window for the last time. “Where is the colour black ?“ she wondered. “No one is wearing black,” she murmured.

And with those words in her mouth, the woman took the black roses the man had brought her and placed them as a crown on her hair.

Dressed in black, the woman danced towards her grave.

 Written by Efthymia Zachou