Wednesday, January 2, 2019
The Flower a Short Story
By Wanda Wright
The flower woke up, “What am I?” it said and was surprised at hearing its own voice. It looked around and saw other flowers just like it all around.
“Am I a flower? One of these?” it said wanting to hear its own voice again and wondering if any other flower would speak back.
All the other flowers were silent, not one spoke back they just gently nodded in the slight breeze. The flower reached its leaves up to its mouth to feel it moving as it said, “ Wake up the rest of you, don’t leave me alone here please.”
All the flower could hear was the rustling of the breeze but feeling its own mouth move the flower knew that it surely had a mouth. It touched further and found an eye, the contact slightly stinging it so it only touched it for a second.
“Have I always been a flower?” it thought to itself this time wondering how it could be seeing and speaking but no other flower could.
“Can I walk out of here?” it thought and tugged up but it still had roots buried deep in the rich ground of the bed.
After just a few tugs it stopped because it didn’t want to die, as the tugging had been met with resistance that wasn’t freeing it easily. The flower looked all around now and saw that it was part of a large bed of flowers that were part of a very large garden that had walking paths in between. There were different kinds of flowers and plants and so many that it was all the flower could see.
“Anyone, can anyone here speak like I can?” it shouted now as loud as it could, hoping at least one of the other flowers could speak too.
The flower listened as carefully as it could hoping to hear at least one of the flowers in the large garden speak back. But the flower heard nothing but leaves rustling in the breeze.
“How can this be? How is it that I am the only flower in this large garden that can speak, that can see?” the flower shouted now more in frustration then seeking out another speaking flower.
Suddenly it heard a slight buzzing noise and it looked all around but saw nothing different until a great mist of water was covering it and the others flowers. At first when the water touched it, the flower was scared. But as soon as it realized it was water it felt great joy in the moment and began singing feeling the nourishment and soaking it up happily.
“La la la la la, tra la la, tra la la” it sang on bending to make sure the water touched every part of its flower body.
A gardener near by heard the singing and went to investigate it. The garden worked at the public garden that wasn’t open yet so he suspected someone had snuck in before it was allowed. He followed the singing sound and realized it was a beautiful voice, but he was still going to tell whomever it was to leave.
The gardener came to where the singing was loud and brilliant but he saw no one around. He could still hear the singing but no one was there and it was as if the song was coming from the sky. The gardener kneeled down and started praying thinking that he must be hearing the song of an angel.
When the flower finally noticed the gardener, he was kneeling with his hands clasped together and mumbling something the flower couldn’t hear. He stopped singing and thought about shouting out to him but was afraid. It was one thing talking to his own kind, but the flower wasn’t sure about talking to the gardener.
The flower stayed quiet until the gardener left.
As soon as the gardener was out of sight the flower began singing again, “Tra la la la la, Tra la la laaaaa.” The singing felt good to the flower, it made him feel free though he was stuck in the garden as the only one of his kind.
The gardener hearing the singing again grabbed his shears for protection and ran back to the same place thinking now that someone was playing a trick on him and hiding. But as soon as he arrived where he was sure he was hearing the singing coming from, it stopped. The flower seeing the gardener again holding shears in his hand became very afraid of him and immediately stopped singing as soon as he saw him.
‘Come out, I know you are here somewhere! The garden is closed and you need to leave!” the gardener shouted holding the shears up like a weapon.
But all that he could hear was the slight breeze rustling through the garden leaves and he saw no one around. He walked away hoping he had at least scared away the intruder and feeling foolish now for having prayed thinking he was hearing the song of a heavenly angel. The flower watched him silent not saying a word in response, the shears putting him in great fear.
Time passed and the flower didn’t see the gardener again and he felt frustrated because he felt great happiness in singing, but he didn’t want to bring the gardener back again. Eventually there were many people walking around and many had small children and babies with them. One small child walked up to the garden that the flower was in and grabbed its stem and began pulling.
“Stop, don’t do that! You can’t pick me!” the flower shouted and the little girl surprised to hear the flower talking and seeing the single eye and mouth of the flower became scared and ran off to her mother crying.
“Mommy that flower talked to me!” the little girl cried and the flower became frightened that the mother would believe the child. But the mother just wiped away her tears and told her flowers can’t talk, thinking the girl’s imagination had caused her fright.
The flower watched all the people walking around and talking and was entertained by their conversations about their life as people. Many times the flower was tempted to comment on their conversations but he didn’t dare do it realizing that they would want to pick him right away and then he would die.
By the late afternoon and before the sun was fully down, the people were all gone and the flower started singing again. Birds came and watched the flower singing but when he tried to speak to them they just flew away and never spoke back.
The flower spent days on end singing in the garden when no people were around but over time he became melancholy wanting to converse with someone else, but feeling too much fear to do so. After a time he saw that some of the flowers were starting to die and he feared for his own life watching the gardener pull out dead flowers from other beds and replace them with new and different flowers.
The flower tried to stop the gardener by singing and sometimes even shouting at him, but the gardener now believing he was losing his mind and hearing voices ignored the flower entirely.
He saw that the flowers like him, were starting to wilt and each day he checked himself for the signs that he too was wilting away toward death, but saw that his leaves were still richly green and healthy. Soon the gardener came to his bed to clear out the flowers and the flower knew he would have to speak to him and not let him pull him out.
When the gardener looked at the bed of flowers he was puzzled by the fact that only a single flower was still healthy and vibrant while all the others were wilted and ready to be pulled and changed. He looked at it closely and the flower afraid began shivering from the fear it felt. The gardener grabbed a clump of wilted flowers not sure what to do about the single flower that remained healthy and vigorous.
The flower seeing the gardener begin to pull flowers out shouted out to him,” You can’t pull me out, I am not ready to die!”
The gardener tried to ignore the voice he was sure was only in his head and a problem he kept as a secret. The flower realized the gardener didn’t react and wondered if he maybe could not hear him at all. The gardener continued to clear the bed of the other wilted flowers and the flower panicking started singing.
The gardener hearing the singing again put his hands on each ear trying to drown out the voices in his head and praying that he would get his sanity back. But the singing didn’t stop and when the gardener looked again he saw the single eye and mouth of the single healthy flower in the bed and realized it was the flower that was singing.
“Oh what black magic is this?” the gardener said not sure if he was seeing the flower sing or whether he had gone completely insane now.
The flower hearing the gardener say this became highly offended that he would suggest his existence was from evil.
“Black magic? Why do you think this beautiful voice comes from black magic? Not likely, I mean I am not sure how this happened, but I am definitely not evil,” the flower shouted back at him, upset by the suggestion that his existence was bad in any way.
The gardener rocked back not sure what to think hearing and seeing the flower speak to him so fluently.
“You can talk? You can see? You are the one who has been singing each early morning and every night all this time?” the gardener said his eyes wide open staring at the flower and hoping he was wrong and that he was actually sane.
“Yes, and if you hadn’t come out with those shears I might have let you in on my secret long ago,” the flower said smugly now but happy that he was finally having a conversation with someone other than himself.
“What is your name? Do you have a name? I am Bernardo,” the gardener said knowing now he was the sole witness to a real miracle.
“I am a flower, and yes, I figured out long ago that your name is Bernardo. It is great to finally meet you Bernardo,” the flower said his little mouth in a wide bright smile now knowing he had finally made a friend.
“That is OK, you don’t need a name. Well, you have actually have a name you know, you are a Daisy. Did you know that you are a Daisy?” Bernardo asked still amazed that the little flower could talk, but happy that he could.
Bernardo lived alone his whole life and never made any real friends. He loved working in the garden and had spent his lifetime doing just that. Other people thought his mind was slow and got frustrated easily trying to have a conversation with him, or they pitied him and neither one made for a good friend.
“Daisy, that sounds good I like that name, if I am going to go by a name that is. I know I am a flower,” the flower replied never wanting the conversation to end he was enjoying it so much.
“I guess you will have to stay in the garden, and I will have to plant these other flowers they gave me around you, but I won’t bother you at all,” Bernardo said feeling very special now that he had made a friend, a real friend from a flower.
“That is wonderful Bernardo I am glad you understand and aren’t going to kill me when I am still alive,” the flower replied and they both laughed.
The flower and Bernardo continued their conversation until Bernardo was finished with the bed. He promised to come back each day and talk with the flower and both Bernardo and the flower were very happy. After that when Bernardo heard the beautiful singing of the flower he took pleasure in the fact that his one good friend was so beautiful and talented and unique. It made him feel very special and happy and both the flower and Bernardo were happier than they had ever been before.
When Bernardo was very old and couldn’t tend the garden anymore, before he retired he gently and carefully dug the flower up and put him in a special pot and took him home. The two of them lived happily ever after until the day that Bernardo died and on that same day the flower happily died too.
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