It was a cold, windy day as PJ Sugar slowly walked out of the Summerhill Funeral Home. Just last week her dad had been out walking in the neighborhood when a massive heart attack hit him. Fifteen minutes later, he was found lying on the sidewalk by a neighbor. The paramedics had pronounced him dead at the scene.
“Why me?” PJ thought once she was outside of the old, stuffy funeral home. “Why am I always that person whose life is bursting at the seams with tragedies?” Some people believed that she just had bad fortune, while others thought that’s how her life was destined to be. Still others thought that there was another cause. A cause that still had to be brought to light.
The bad luck had started at PJ’s parents’ wedding. It was on Saturday, April 22, 1979. Everything had went just as planned until the flower arrangements arrived. Apparently the wedding flower arrangement order was mixed up with a funeral flower arrangement order. Somehow the florist had delivered the funeral arrangements to the wedding and the wedding flowers to the funeral. It was also late in the day and there was no time to make up new wedding flower arrangements. The couple decided that the wedding must go on because there was no use in crying over spilled milk. Rebeka Koen, the soon-to-be Mrs. Myles A. Sugar walked down the aisle carrying just one lonely black rose. Somewhere out there was a dead corpse holding her wedding bouquet. It was not a good start to their marriage.
Two and a half years later, Rebeka found out that she was pregnant with PJ. Around the same time, Myles and she got a divorce. Rebeka slowly fell into the fatal trap of depression. She went into the hospital shortly before giving birth to PJ, the new love of her life, (but not for long).
When Rebeka was resting in her hospital room one evening, someone slowly crept to her nightstand next to her bed. Then they slowly walked back out as quietly as when they came in. When the nurse came into the room in the morning, she discovered Rebeka dead in the middle of the hospital bed. A single black rose laid on the nightstand.
Flash forward a few months later after the funeral. PJ finally got over her grief and decided it was time to move on with her life. She was now in a steady relationship with her high school sweetheart, Wilhelm Burgmann. Many people had said that they were perfect for each other. Yes, she agreed, they were. On Valentines Day, he took her out to dinner at Brussels Steakhouse, her favorite restaurant ever. He treated her to a delicious medium-rare steak, a house salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing, and a chocolate lava cake for two. It was a perfect way to end a perfect evening. Afterwards, they walked outside on the beach holding hands. Just as the sun was setting, Wilhelm knelt down on one knee and opened a little, black, velvet box. PJ gasped. Inside lay a sparkling diamond ring.
“Will you marry me, Princess?” He asked using her familiar nickname.
“Of course!” She replied happily. She put the ring on and kissed him. As they walked back to his car, someone tapped PJ’s shoulder. She turned to see a hand coming out of the darkness and thrusting something into her hand. She grabbed it. When she realized what it was, she screamed and fainted, falling onto the sand. Wilhelm hurried and reached down to try and pick her up, while looking for the object that was in her hand. Lying in the sand next to her was just one lonely black rose. As he picked up PJ, he noticed that her body was stiff. He checked for a pulse but couldn’t find one.
“No, no, no, this can’t be happening.” He screamed into the empty night. His voice echoed off of distant buildings. “ I’m going to wake up. I’m going to wake up from this nightmare.” He told himself repeatedly. “Princess!” He cried out. The only answer that he heard was the waves quietly laughing at him. He knelt down in the sand next to PJ and kissed her. Deep down inside, he realized that his princess wasn’t Sleeping Beauty.