You say you seek something, traveler? Something impossible? Then you came to the right place. All those rumors about us, they're true. No matter how fantastical they seem, they're true. 

Yes, son. Even the ones about her. 

How do I know? That's easy. I made a deal myself, once. In fact, I was probably about your age when I did it. 

Hey, now! Don't go charging off into the night because you heard some gossip. That's the best way to get yourself killed 'round these parts. She isn't the only thing around here, you know. Just sit down, get a drink, and listen to me. I'll tell you how to get her help. It's not as simple as the rumors say it is. 

Yes, that part of the story is true. You can ask her for near-anything and she can give it to you. Love, fame, power, wealth, I've seen her give it all. Only thing she can't do is bring back the dead. She's smart enough to leave that much to God, at least. And all it costs you is a rose; a perfect red rose, without a single torn or missing petal or single snapped thorn. 

Go to the beach on a cloudy, windy morning after a storm has blown through. The beach with the crumbling cliffs, that is. The rough one, where we don't let our children play. Bring nothing but that rose and the clothes on your back. Bring so much as a knife, son, and she'll not come to you. 

Walk along the shore. Breathe in that salt air, listen to the song of the gulls. Become one with the world around you. Eventually you will come upon an elderly lady in a grey cloak and hood.  Her hands will be withered and bony, her hair will be white and brittle as thin icicles. You will not see her face. Do not try and look at it. 

Lay the perfect rose at her feet. The color will leach from it, the green burning into her cloak. The youth will return to her hands, her hair will become bouncy and have the same color and luster as the night sky. Again, do not look at her face.

You're asking why not? Well, it's a fair question. Seems a little silly, doesn't it? But I beg you, boy, do not look at her face. A strange, obsessive love will take your mind. You will forget all but burning passion and desire for her, and you'd do whatever she asked without a question. If she told you to jump off the cliffs, you'd do it with a smile on your face. 

No, you wouldn't be able to resist her. You wouldn't be the first cocky young man to swagger off and never be seen again. We've lost far too many boys like that. Don't become another.

So, once the stem of the rose is dead and withered--she doesn't use the petals right away--you tell her what you seek. She will consider it. It may take her but a moment, it may take her hours. You have to be patient, or she'll turn you down. If she decides that your intentions are pure, the petals will begin to fade as well. The red will swirl around her, like some sort of bloody smoke. It's beautiful to behold, beautiful in the worst way. And then she will breathe it in. Her hands will begin to glow, and a halo will burn around her hood. It will flash and blind you. But when your eyes stop watering, when your sight returns, your wish will have been granted. I'm warning you now, after that, don't press her further. Turn around and walk away. Don't run. She'll take it as an insult.

Well, if she says no, traveler, then you run. Run hard and fast. Ignore the sand in your shoes, forget why you came. She will send the sea for you, and it will churn and roar and try and drag you in. She says no to the cheats, to the liars, to the utterly selfish. If you aren't a no-good punk--and I don't think you are--she'll fulfill your wish.

Hey, don't get up! I'm not done yet, son. Besides, it's still nasty outside. That storm is a-raging and will be until the dead of night. I want to give you one last warning. You'll probably find her tomorrow, with this weather. Wouldn't want you to go unprepared. 

Yes, I'll hurry it up. I'm just trying to help you, you know. Think about what you're going to ask for. Think long and hard on it. She will give you exactly what you ask for, and all the consequences that go with it. Is what you want really so important that you'd gamble so much for it?

Oh, I see. Here for love, huh? Does she not love you back? She does? Does she have parents who hate your guts or something?

Sorry, son, I don't mean to pry. We don't get too many visitors around here, and an old man gets a little lonely from time to time. I've been itching to hear a new story from a fresh face. Nothing more. 

By the way tonight is looking, I'd go hunting for that rose before dawn. Go to the little house down the street, the one with the iron fence. My daughter lives there. Her name's Ella. She grows roses, the best roses you'll ever see. Tell her Del sent you, and she'll help you. Be careful with it, alright? A single ripped petal, and you're running for your life. 

Be careful, son. Be so much more careful than you think you need to be. 

I already lost my son to the enchantress. I don't want your momma and your pop to lose you too.