Death by Flowers

“I was born differently. I know I was. I was born a monster, a creature nobody understood.

You might not know who I am.

But I know who you are.

I am everything and nothing. I am alive and yet dead. I am everywhere and nowhere, I am controlling you and still don’t care. I am life and death, I am the future and the past, but also the present. I am the daughter of Mother Nature, I was raised by the Rain, tortured by the Wind, healed by animals. I am a survivor. I am a hero and a villain. But mostly, I am the cruellest little thing you have ever seen. I am dangerous, but still, you want to find me. So come. Find me.

My skin is dark blue and white painted by the Night Sky. Or maybe deep yellow blessed by the Sun. Or maybe, but just maybe it is ravishing red coloured with Blood. Who knows? Does it really matter though?

I am small, but very powerful. I could tear apart mountains with my own two hands. I could pull the Moon and tame the Sea. I was once a goddess, a leader, a true warrior. I served Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies, but you know, they always ended up under the ground. I hope you can keep secrets or maybe, you will meet with them.

My family? Hah. My husband? A cheater. My wife? Obsessed. Children? Not for me.

Come devilish little child, come. Follow my voice. You are almost here. You will see me. You will find me.

You know, I’m sad. I am in pain. Everyone left me and nobody came back. I am all alone. I was alone for decades now, but you, oh brave child, you came for me and you will find me. I know you will.

Look!

I am there!

Can’t you see me?

Come, child, come, let me consume you, come!”

The child looked around. The smooth, comfortable voice was faint, but he knew it was there.  It had to be there.

But which one?

Which flower was she?

There were so many ones, he had to be careful. He had to choose the right one, or he will be cursed too. Just like all the others, who was turned into stars. He swore he could hear them yelling.

At first, he eyed the yellow ones. They were bright, they were gorgeous, they were happy. They were tulips. But when he looked closer, he could see the scars. Maybe, they weren’t happy after all.

Then, he turned to the blue ones. They were mysterious, and oh how magnificent! They were confident and courageous. They were irises. And then, he took a step towards them and could see their insecurity. Maybe, they weren’t confident at all.

And what about the red ones? Oh, they were tempted. They were strong, and powerful and wild. They were dahlias. But when he kneeled in front of them, he could see the weaknesses. Maybe, they weren’t strong at all.

But what if she lied?

What if she was orange?

Or pink?

Or green?

Or purple?

Or white?

Or black?

There were so-so many flowers! There were camellias, and roses, lavenders, sunflowers, gardenias, orchids and so many more. It was impossible to choose. It was impossible to resist. To resist to smell them, to pick them up, to make them his. They were so beautiful, so independent and pleasing.

So he didn’t resist. He started picking them up.

An orchid for his kind, loving mother.

A gardenia for his brave father.

A camellia for his caring grandmother.

A rose for his annoying and loud sister.

A lavender for his lazy brother.

And a sunflower for himself.

And she watched. She watched as the little boy picked those flowers up and smiled at them and talked to them and hugged them. As he, little by little, started loving them.

He was foolish, yes. He was foolish and stupid and indecisive, but oh how much he could love. He could love like nobody else in this world, like nobody she has ever met. He loved like Hades loved Persephone, like Juliet loved Romeo, like Diego loved Frida.

He loved like she loved the Moon, like she loved the Sea, like she loved these flowers around her.

The boy was waiting, He was waiting for the death to come, to tear him apart, but it didn’t come. Nothing came. There was only a gentle breeze and the pulsing ground under his feet. He didn’t understand. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He should be dead. She should have turned him into a star. But he was just alone with the flowers in his hands.

And then, he turned around.

He caught the hidden creature’s shape behind a tree. He could only see her eyes.

Her eyes.

Her eyes were white and empty, and he could see tears shining in them.

She raised her arm.

Her skin was black like poison. She waved a little, telling him to run.

So he did. He started running home.

And to his surprise, he arrived home.

He thought back and realised something. She had stars in her eyes.

She smiled a little. She walked out of her hiding place and sat down. The Sun shone at her, making her skin glow even more. The Wind caught her light blue curls up. Her green dress was torn from clutching it with her claws.

Her claws.

Her claws which murdered so many people, so many other creatures.

Her sharp, bloody teeth which ripped so many spines out.

Her silent movements which helped her sneak up on the intruders.

And her calming voice which lured so many others here.

She was indeed a monster. A disgusting, evil, screwed up monster. She was beautiful.

Can someone be disgusting and beautiful at the same time?

Can someone be a monster and still letting go a child?

She didn’t know how long she has been sitting there.

She watched as the Sun settled, and the Moon rose.

There was silence for a minute. So utter silence, she thought maybe they won’t come.

And then music erupted.

The stars danced down from the sky, and took their true forms. They were unbelievable. They had lilac skins and white hair. They moved like kings and queens. They weren’t what the child thought they were. Nobody really knew who they were. Nobody knew she saved them.

The flowers started growing. They became taller and wider, and they were growing and growing until they took their true forms too. They had green skins but their hair? They were different. Some of them had red, some of them had orange, some of them had yellow, and so on. They moved with grace. They weren’t evil like the world thought. They were fragile, and shy, so she protected them.

The flowers weren’t monsters.

They were anything, but not monsters.

She was the monster.

She sighed as she felt another presence next to her. She turned her head and saw her friend.

She was still extraordinary. She had fascinating orange skin with white spots on it. Her hair was light pink and her eyes, oh her eyes were astonishing. She had thunderstorms and oceans in those deep blue eyes. She didn’t have claws or sharp teeth. She was born from the Fire, taught by muses, and trained by heroes.

She was definitely not a monster.

She was an angel.

“You let him go.” her friend said.

“Yeah, I did.”

“You let him go.” the other said again, not believing. “You let him walk away. You let him try, Nightmare.”

“No, Dream.” she answered. “I let him love.”