Where The Flowers Grow

Why would he hide a body here? My family has lived here for thousands of years. We’ve prided ourselves on keeping this wood clean of mess and trouble and now here he is, hiding a body. Worst part is, it seems to be a young girl. This doesn’t make sense, and can’t be good. 

My name is Red and my family has lived here for centuries. Many would say that we own the forest but I’m not that old school; I understand we have to share. That’s why me and mine have never bothered Old Man. That’s what we call him. He lives a couple miles over from where I stay but he has always come to the clearing to gather food, have a fire, and occasionally dance naked but, we don’t bring that up. We’ve never been threatened by Old Man; he doesn’t bother us and we don’t bother him but tonight is different. Sneaking around with a body late at night? Nothing good can come from that. What baffles me is it’s wrapped in extravagant material. It looks loved. How do I know it’s a body? I hate to say this, I don’t wanna be crude. But, I can smell it. Trust me, my family knows what decay smells like, we’ve dealt with it for years. I don’t find myself this way often but, I’m scared. What in the world would he be doing with a body when it’s been only us for years? 

They are starting to search for the girl. I hear them calling her name at night. It’s been weeks and I hate that I can’t tell them where to find her but, we don’t speak the same language. My families’ relationship with outsiders has always been rocky. Some visit our land in peace and others come to take what they want and leave destruction behind. I can’t take any chances. They’ve passed the spot where Old Man laid her to rest a million times. It reminds me of Springtime, when the outsiders come to place brightly colored eggs in plain sight and then watch the kids gleefully search for the treasures. Except of course, this is void of that joy. How could the Old Man have done this? For years it has been nothing but peace and now he has brought sorrow and unrest into our home. I want to believe he has a good reason but without knowing, it’s getting harder to look at him the same. 

The Old Man stayed the night in the clearing tonight. It’s been a month now since his secret burial and I think he’s losing his mind with the guilt, or sadness. He didn’t sleep all night, instead, he prayed. I had never heard him pray before but secrets have a magical way of encouraging a soul to find God. “Bless Amanda’s soul, let her find peace” were the only words he kept repeating. Amanda. The mystery girl has a name. I have to admit I’ve been angry with the Old Man. He put the whole forest in a state of unrest, even the soil feels different. The search parties for Amanda’s remains have only grown in numbers, having no regard for the life of the forest. They have torn down shrubs, trampled on animals’ homes and while I understand their urgency, I feel violated. I remember when the Old Man first came to live here. He must have been around twenty one but I admit, I have no skill in telling the age of outsiders. However, as soon as he arrived I felt he belonged. He came with nothing on his back but water and when he stepped into the clearing, he smiled with his soul. He never said much and settled on a slice of land that was big enough for comfort but not excessive. I never saw him with another soul, only knew him to pick berries and go about his way. His heart is kind. He must have a reason for this. 

It has been two months now since the burial. The search parties have ceased except for the occasional wandering loved one that will come to pick a flower out of the clearing and lay it on a rock in Amanda’s memory. Why outsiders feel they must pick one life to honor another has always baffled me, but grieving is a messy business. I do not see Old Man anymore. Even though I was angry with him for disturbing the peace of the forest I do feel a darkness over the place that I’ve never felt before. My family has always had a way with absorbing the energy of outsiders, and I can tell he’s not well. All I can do now is hope for things to be righted. I would wish, but believe me, I’ve been neighbors with the stars for centuries and they are very selective in which wishes they grant. 

I watched the Old Man die. Tonight he returned to the clearing and at first I did not recognize him. He was skinny and feeble; the light had gone from his eyes. However, with what little strength he had left he did the oddest, yet most noble thing. With his last bit of energy the Old Man sat on a rock and spoke directly to me and so, I listened. He said,

“My friend, please listen close. I have lost my daughter, my world, so this won’t be verbose. My Amanda was ill, she was not blessed with much time. I laid her to rest, but committed no crime. Please know it was she that made the choice to leave her outside life, begging me not to tell of her whereabouts. I suppose out of hope for a peaceful ending, she chose here to reside. You have been good to me; thank you for sharing your space. And if nothing else, I hope my time here, my actions, my heart, have given you hope for the human race.” 

The Old Man then took a drink from his cup, shortly after, staggering off toward his house. I never saw the Old Man again. However, after his absence I felt the darkness lift; I knew he was with Amanda again. It’s a strange thing this life I lead. I’m forced to stay in one spot which to some may seem lifeless but I’d say my family and I have had the opportunity to observe more about life than any other species. Not long after the Old Man’s final visit, flowers began sprouting in the clearing, where Amanda’s body rested, with a brightness I had not witnessed in ages. And I went on swaying, like my ancestors always have, a tree in the breeze.