A Ballad Written with Buttercups

Submitted into Contest #86 in response to: Write a story where flowers play a central role.... view prompt

79 comments

Contemporary Lesbian Friendship

NOTE: I KNOW PEOPLE WILL HAVE SEEN THIS MESSAGE BEFORE! DOWNVOTING IS A PROBLEM! I HAVE SPENT A LONG TIME UPVOTING AS WELL AS OTHERS (THANK YOU) BUT STILL. DOWNVOTERS ARE GANGING UP. TAKE AERIN FOR EXAMPLE. 30000. AND NO THAT IS NOT A TYPO. PLEASE GO UPVOTE HER! https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/contests/86/submissions/59942/ SIGN THIS. IT IS A PETITION TO GET RID OF DOWNVOTING!

When my head first peeks above the ground after weeks of pushing and waiting and struggling, I bask in the sunlight, enjoying this new freedom, which I never had before. I see my family and friends around me, slowly swaying in the breeze. They don’t notice me at first, because there are just so many of us, but one by one, they turn and wave, smiling in a way only a flower can, with colour and fragrance, unique to each and every one of us. 

The gentle spirit of spring greets me, giving me life and colour and bloom, so great, so beautiful, so perfect, that I’m sure that I must be the nicest flower here. But, doesn’t everyone think that? My dainty petal fan out, elegantly ring my pollen in a golden halo, while my green, green leaves gently support them. I stand there unperturbed, ready to face anything, do anything…

And I watch the world fall away.

A small, soft hand grasps my stem, pulling me up, up, up. It hurts, hurts like hell, and I can’t stop it. My poor, poor roots have been torn off, left far below, writhing in the dirt, slowly dying. I can’t look. I can’t do anything, except cry and scream, with no one to hear me, not even the little girl who is happily singing under her breath. Why can’t she hear me? Why?

“Mama! Mama! Look, look at this one. It’s the prettiest one there. It’s so pretty. It’s for you!” I hear her cry out, happily. 

Happily.

Why is she so happy that she has killed me?

“Oh, darling, what have you got for me? Is it another flower? Oh, yes, that is a lovely one, I’ll add it to my hair, but why did you pick it?” the mother came into view, ready to sweep her daughter into her arms, and me into her hair. She smiles, a supposedly reassuring smile, but seems to be all teeth and bite, with no joy. I’m passed into her hand, feeling the difference between the slightly fat child’s hand and the chapped mother’s hand. I am slotted behind her ear, with her hair wrapped around me like a blanket, protecting me from the now harsh wind. 

“I picked it because it reminded me of you. It’s the prettiest one there!” she lisps, smiling up at her mum, waiting for praise. The mother looks lovingly at her, but slowly she tilts her daughter’s chin up and looks into her brown eyes, flecked with green. 

“Love, thank you, but no more flowers. They are lovely, but they should stay that way. They will live longer in the ground, than in my hair, and be even more pretty. Still, I’m going to keep this little buttercup. It really is a pretty one.” The mother talks gently, but firmly, and I want to hug her. Thank you, I think. I now know my family will be safe. I can only imagine how many of them have been taken already, but this woman, she understands. I wonder if she heard my screams.

I’m going to ask you a question.

Do flowers represent family?

***

It is the end of summer, right about September when they come. Herds and herds of children, loud, shouting children, who run and play, without thinking of me. Of us, slowly being killed off.

All except one.

She sits in the middle of the field, in a carefully chosen patch with no flowers.

She has brown eyes with flecks of green in them. 

I am just to the left of her, one of the closest, and I am close enough to hear her speak, and to hear a seven-year-old’s thoughts is really quite unique.

‘Hello, flowers, buttercups, daisies. I love you all.’

‘My mama said I shouldn’t pick you, so I won’t.’

‘That boy over there is picking his nose.’

‘You’re a lovely flower. I wish I could keep you but I can’t.’

‘I don’t want to do maths. It is horrible.’

And I agree with her, maybe not the maths thing, because I don’t really know what that is, but I agree that you shouldn’t pick me. Another girl comes over, who has green eyes flecked with brown, squats and reaches her hand slowly down, down, down, closer and closer to me, until-

“Stop,” her voice rings clear now, her childish lisp gone. “You shouldn’t pick flowers. Mama said you shouldn’t.” With that, she goes back thinking and muttering under her breath.

‘Why can’t I let her pick flowers? After all, her mama may not have told her not too.’

‘Tommy is staring at me now. At least he has stopped picking his nose.’

‘I wish the girl would go away. She is starting to fidget and hurt the flowers.’ And she is. She is dangerously close to me now, teetering on the edge of my life or death. It doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Why does it matter that just one more buttercup has died? Another will just replace it, won’t it? 

“Stay still.” The brown-eyed girl looks up, her eyes deep and thoughtful, and despite being so dark were so full of light. “You are going to crush that buttercup.” She points directly at me, without wavering. A wave of gratitude rushes through me, and I wish I could show her that. 

“Why are you so protective over the buttercups? I mean, they’re just flowers.” The green-eyed girl says. She goes to sit down, but the brown-eyed girl puts a hand up and stops her.

“No. Don’t sit there. Sit here, where there are no flowers.” Her arm moves about three feet to the right. “ And they aren’t ‘just flowers’. Are you ‘just a human’? No? Well, there.” 

Her quick, dark eyes dart around watching, waiting, thinking. She opens her mouth several times, but no words come out. She looks sad, so sad, while watching her classmates tromp over the field, destroying the flowers. Some even sit there happily splitting flowers in half from the inside, then looping each corpse through each other! Then they laugh, and crown each other with the dead bodies of the flowers they destroyed. After all, to some, destruction is beautiful.

The green eyed-girl stares at the brown-eyed girl, who is getting steadily more distressed, as the laughing grows to a deafening crescendo. Her leg is twitching with frustration, and the green-eyed girl puts a hand on her knee to steady her. They lock eyes, communicating without words, with the start of a beautiful friendship blooming before my eyes, before a harsh, grating bell pieces the silence and connection.

Let me ask another question.

Do flowers represent friendship?

***

The night envelopes me, cascading down like one final curtain of darkness, but despite the darkness it is not silent, far from it. Owls hoot, leaves rustle, waves lap. And most prominent of all is the girls’ laughter. One high, pitched, almost cackly, belonging to a green-eyed girl, and the other deep, and warm and cosy, belonging to a brown-eyed girl.

They run across the beach, barefoot, where I can look down upon them from the cliff. They don’t see me, but I don’t mind. It’s enough just to see the brown-eyed girl who has saved so many of us buttercups in her 15 years of life. Tales are told of her, passed on through our roots, travelling for miles and miles and years and years. She doesn’t know, and I don’t think she ever will. No one ever hears us.

A daisy is next to me. She has also heard of the brown-eyed girl, who has saved countless daisies as well. I wish I could talk to her, but I can’t. No daisy and buttercup can ever commune. It is forbidden, because of some petty argument that happened decades ago.

The brown-eyed girl and the green-eyed girl start to climb up the cliff, coming towards me. When they reach the top, they settle happily together, near me and without crushing any flowers, dangling their feet over the edge. 

And still the brown-eyed girl has not gotten out of the habit of speaking her thoughts, only now she speaks and shouts, not mumbling. The green-eyed girl smiles, looking lovingly at her.

“Do you ever think that it is possible to walk into the sunset?”

“Do you think that flowers are the souls of angels?”

“Do you think that there are flowers on other planets?”

Thoughts pour out of her, with no reply from the green-eyed girl, who is probably used to it. After all, she has been listening to it for 8 years now, but she doesn’t mind. 

Eventually, she runs out of thoughts, and they sit there in comfortable silence, their hands linked, and silhouetted against the bleeding sky.

They don’t move for hours, content to bask in the sea air, and they don’t notice me, not until they leave when the green-eyed girl says, “Do you remember the buttercup that was the start of our friendship?”

“Of course, I won’t ever forget that buttercup.” She reaches over and gently touches my petals. 

Here’s another question.

Do flowers represent happiness?

***

I’m on the windowsill of the church, with a gentle breeze, caressing my petals. It really is a perfect day for a wedding, and I’m so glad that of all the people being married today it is a woman with brown eyes. 

As the guest file in, I sigh, and wait. The buttercups around me are just as happy to be here. We talk without words, each of us bobbing about, trying to see the brides. 

And there they are.

The brides. One has brown eyes and the other has green, both in white with yellow embroidery. I’m sure that signifies us, the buttercups, who brought them together, that day 20 years ago. Their hair is perfectly sculpted, without a wisp out of place, but what makes them exceptionally beautiful are the smiles etched across their lips, as if in stone, because it looks like they’re never going to disappear. 

One by one they walk up to the altar, each with their dad on their arm. 

And then the green-eyed girl starts to cry, and then laugh. I’m not sure why, but I think this is a normal reaction. After all, I have never seen many weddings before. The brown-eyed girl smiles wider, reaching further than her eyes and deep into her soul. 

They make it to the altar and face each other, with the priest between them, who says the wedding vows, but I can’t hear properly. 

And then they kiss. And in that kiss was the sweetness of passion, and the intenseness of happiness, mixed with a thousand memories, all fused into that single moment. 

Then the clapping. Just one at first, then another, until everyone is, and laughing and cheering is suddenly blended in to. 

It’s a day they are never going to forget.

It’s a day I’m never going to forget.

Later on, when the dances have been danced, the food has been eaten and the drinks have been drunk, both the brown-eyed girl and the green-eyed girl come over to my window. They hold hands, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they never let go. They so obviously love each other, and it’s lovely.

“I made sure they were here for you.” The green-eye girl says.

“Yes, I noticed them as soon as I walked in. It just wouldn’t be our wedding without them. They mean so much to us: endings and beginnings, love and friendship. If they weren’t here, I would have felt something was missing.” The brown-eyed girl knows she is talking about me, without her ever saying it. 

They lapse into silence, until they are pulled back into the midst of the celebrations, with an eager shout.

Another question for you.

Do flowers represent love?

***

There’s always a moment at a funeral where everyone just stands there, still not accepting the death of the person. In this case, it is an old, old woman who has brown eyes, flecked with green and a passion for buttercups. That’s why I’m here on her casket, screaming in grief, like all the others beside me, but no one can hear. 

And then, one by one, the people start to cry. This woman was loved widely and deeply, far more than she ever knew. Her wife slowly makes her way up to the altar, going via the casket to say one last goodbye. She holds onto the edge, like she’s going to fall over with no brown-eyed women to support her. Her breathing starts to steady again, and with one last lingering look, she turns and faces the grievers.

“I love her, present tense. I love her, even though she is causing me so much pain right now. Even though it broke me into a million pieces when she left. Even though I can’t imagine life without her. I doubt any of you can either.” A sad smile. “She was a lovely, lovely person who would help anyone. I think that’s what I love most, as well as her obsession with flowers, of course. She never once picked one since she was three. I haven’t picked one since I met her, aged seven. Even at our wedding, any spring since then, her own funeral, there are no flowers, except for planted ones...”

And for that, I would like to thank her, on behalf of me, and all my fellow buttercups and daisies and flowers. She is someone, who, I think, can hear us, maybe not literally, but in her heart. The brown-eyed girl will live on, if only in stories, and memory. 

“...I remember once she told me, when we were 15 and sat on the edge of a cliff, she told me that flowers were the souls of angels, which I hope with all my heart is true, because that means she will be alive forever, as a buttercup- her favourite flower.”

I hope so too.

The green-eyed woman leaves and sits back down, crying quietly, but still, a smile across her face. A small smile, which speaks a thousand words of memories and thoughts, and I think to myself, she has the smile of a flower.

So, my final question to you is do flowers always represent happiness and life? Or can it be death and sadness?


March 21, 2021 01:35

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79 comments

Keya M.
17:34 Mar 22, 2021

Hi Dako-Bear, I don't know you, but I just wanted to say that the way you're encouraging people to upvote others who have been downvoted. Thanks to you, I found out who has been downvoted, and how to help them. I've spent the last week upvoting people and it has made me so happy to help people out! Thanks for bringing attention to this! You're awesome.

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17:59 Mar 22, 2021

thank you! it's what i would want for people to do for me, so i do it for them. also did you know that it was international day of kindness last Saturday?

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Keya M.
18:01 Mar 22, 2021

I did not, but it's been an uplifting weekend on Reedsy! It's so wonderful to see people rallying together to help people get their points back, right?! Could you upvote me? I'd appreciate it.

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18:01 Mar 22, 2021

yeah sure :)

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Keya M.
18:02 Mar 22, 2021

Thank you so much, Dako!

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Jasey Lovegood
21:29 Mar 21, 2021

I- bro. This has got to be my fave of your stories, for sure. The complexity and depth were just amazing, and I loved how at the end of each section it had a question. [Do flowers represent love?] I used the same prompt, but our stories are so different. Excellent work, I actually am in love. :)

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21:50 Mar 21, 2021

aww thank you so much! :) 🤗🤗

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21:52 Mar 21, 2021

also were there any grammatical errors?

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Jasey Lovegood
22:31 Mar 21, 2021

Hehehe no problem! And uh, there might be, I'll have to re-read it, if that's okay! I've been super busy, but I just saw u had updated and submitted a new story :D

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06:42 Mar 22, 2021

oke thanks :)

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Angel {Readsy}
13:14 Apr 07, 2021

Oh come on , you are the ONE chosen one, you have to designed new grammar, old one is old kidding Rock star

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John Walsh
16:30 Mar 21, 2021

Excellent, it is only about buttercups but has so much humanity underneath!

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Kendall Defoe
16:20 Mar 21, 2021

I wish I could answer all of your questions... Nice little tale here. Have a flower...

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16:26 Mar 21, 2021

hehe thanks...

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PK Spice
15:31 Mar 21, 2021

This is a beautiful story! Well done.

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15:33 Mar 21, 2021

Thanks! I loved your 'Moments in Time' story as well. Keep writing! :)

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01:44 Mar 21, 2021

this story probably has a bunch of grammatical errors, which I apologize for now, but that's what happens if you write it at 1 in the morning, when you body is functioning purely from caffeine. Hehe, sorry guys. please point out any errors. On another note, what do flowers mean to you? Or does it depend on the type? for me, buttercups are my happy flowers, with lilies being my sad flower, and roses are everything in-between. i think it depends on the colour. pink is friendship, red is love, yellow is family and white? "nothing says perfecti...

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Lavender Blue
03:35 Jun 01, 2021

Two things: 1. I love this story. It is a masterpiece!! and 2. I'm new here and don't understand what downvoting is. I don't want to do it as it seems to have a negative connotation, but I'm curious as to what it is. Thank you!

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09:46 Jun 01, 2021

thanks! as for downvoting, if you look at comments, you can see an up arrow and a down arrow next to the username, I think they were originally there to say if a comment was useful or not, and the commenter loses and gains karma points depending on how good there comment is. for some users on here who are really chatty and comment a lot (like aerin) it means they can lose hundreds of them. aerin lost 30000 because she has a lot of stories with a lot of comments, hope this clears it up. :)

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Lavender Blue
18:05 Jun 01, 2021

Yes, Thank you for the explanation!

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TJ Squared
04:52 Apr 01, 2021

okay, so since everyone else is answering your question, I guess I will too. I'm also 14 like you (apparently there are A LOT of us XD), and I love tea time very much. I'm American, but I do like English Breakfast if that counts. I boil the water, either by stove or kettle and then pour it in the cup/mug that contains the tea bag and I wait for a few minutes. When it's done, I remove the tea bag and add milk and sugar :)))) I hope you have been well, and I would love to chat with you some more :))) -Lone Wolf :)

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06:47 Apr 01, 2021

yes you are an excellent tea maker. :)

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TJ Squared
14:47 Apr 01, 2021

thanks i guess :))) how have you been?

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Ruth Smith
02:31 Apr 01, 2021

Dako-Bear, To answer your Tea question, I am an American and in my household we have a teapot on the stove where we boil the water, then pour it into a cup, place the tea bag into the cup and set a timer for the suggested amount of time its set to seep. Once the timer goes off, we remove the teabag and enjoy the tea. The only time I have ever used a microwave was when there was no coffee maker available to boil the water and I wanted something warm to drink. And you should still write. The only way to get better at anything is to prac...

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06:49 Apr 01, 2021

you are a very good tea maker and i forgive the microwave. i am going to still write (ofc) but i was busy this week with school and stuff

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Robert Consiglio
22:45 Mar 31, 2021

The story is original and thought provoking. I have always hated cutting flowers.... It's better to keep the whole plant and nurture them until they bloom. Just one suggestion. Don't say" another question for you" . It isn't necessary. Put the "question" in italics or dark letters for emphasis. They are good questions, by the way. Well done.

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01:42 Apr 01, 2021

Thank youu

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20:17 Mar 31, 2021

This story is lovely. I like the conclusion very much. I'm not sure why the down vote even exists. I was taught if you couldn't say anything nice, don't say anything at all... this should apply to stories too. I'm secure enough at age 55 to accept a few down votes. However, this should be accompanied by a constructive critique of the work. Down vote and run away isn't in the spirit of the Reedsy goals as I understand it. Maybe I'm wrong...

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20:57 Mar 31, 2021

Thanks 😊. I'm 14 and am secure enough to accept criticism (I have two brothers and am used to it) and I haven't been downvoted much but for some like aerin who have lost 30k it is a completely different story

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21:27 Mar 31, 2021

That's very distressing to read. I'm sorry that happened to Aerin. Thank you for bringing this to my attention!

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David Black
19:52 Mar 31, 2021

Really liked your story. Nice job!!

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19:53 Mar 31, 2021

thanks :)

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Holly Fister
20:08 Mar 28, 2021

The questions you posed about flowers are very thought provoking. They can mean so many different things to people. I love that these prompts inspired such beautiful stories, like yours.

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20:29 Mar 28, 2021

aw thanks :)

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Nora Ouardi
14:25 Mar 28, 2021

Once again, you come out with an INCREDIBLE story! It almost made me cry (lol) because of how deep the actual story was. It was only about flowers, yet the surface beneath it gave it a staggering outcome. I loved it!

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14:50 Mar 28, 2021

thank you and i apologise for almost making you cry

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Nora Ouardi
14:54 Mar 28, 2021

your apologize is not accepted 😒😒 you cant make a better story then mine and then apologize🧍 🙄🙄😔

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Stormi Gales
21:47 Mar 27, 2021

I really enjoyed this. I'm new to here and not sure how it works I do know that this was really deep. Good job!

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21:56 Mar 27, 2021

thanks! i read your story awakened and it is amazing (tho you seemed to have submitted it twice under different prompts. reedsy prefer it if you choose the most relevant prompts and just submit it fyi). you deserve more recognition but it can take a while to build up. i'm also relatively new here ('bout two months now).

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Stormi Gales
22:13 Mar 27, 2021

Oh thank you for the feedback and advice. I didn't know sorry. Now I know for the next contest. You're really nice to give me that heads up and help Aerin. I looked for her story to read and upvote. I think yours is a huge chance of winning.

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08:22 Mar 28, 2021

thanks!

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Stormi Gales
22:16 Mar 27, 2021

I'm not exactly tech savvy so this is pretty new to me but I've always loved writing. Sorry for the duplicates I should have deleted them all.

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Stormi Gales
22:21 Mar 27, 2021

Total noob question but how do I unsubmit for one prompt? Sorry to bother you, I just don't know what I'm doing.

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08:22 Mar 28, 2021

dont worry! if you go onto your page, look under your stories. there are three options read, edit and delete. press delete.

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Ogechukwu Anyaso
20:24 Mar 26, 2021

Wow, its a really good story full of insight. I am really still thinking about the flower's questions.

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20:42 Mar 26, 2021

haha thanks :)

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Meera Lakshmi
19:00 Mar 25, 2021

New story!! Can you leave some feedback?

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19:12 Mar 25, 2021

yep

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Maraika!!! 😎
00:14 Mar 25, 2021

I am make tea like everyday by heating up water in a kettle and then putting the tea bag in. I then leave it for like 8 minutes and, depending on what type of tea it is, I put in either honey or sugar. I hope that restores you faith in humanity :) (Though I am canadian and we respect tea making.)

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05:37 Mar 25, 2021

at first i completely misread this and wondered why you put tea in a bag. i then reread it. and YES you make it very well

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Maraika!!! 😎
18:15 Mar 25, 2021

Thank you *bows*

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Charlie Murphy
01:44 Apr 01, 2021

I love your story! Thank you for liking mine.

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06:49 Apr 01, 2021

thanks you're welcome

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Meera Lakshmi
23:10 Mar 25, 2021

#StopDownvotingNow Share this with 10 friends!

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