See what kind of story this May flower inspires in you. Leave your stories in the comments, and we'll leave ours!
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Picture Prompt: April Showers Bring May Flowers
Did you have a relaxing Memorial Day weekend? We had plenty of relaxation: going book shopping three days in a row, meeting with someone about a writing workshop, spending time with family, and laying around reading.
See what kind of story this May flower inspires in you. Leave your stories in the comments, and we'll leave ours!
See what kind of story this May flower inspires in you. Leave your stories in the comments, and we'll leave ours!
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I keep saying I'm going to write a draft for this and post it later, but I've put it off too long! So here's a short short flash piece, flying by the seat of my pants. Maybe it'll grow into something later.
ReplyDeleteHe couldn't remember her face anymore. There had been pictures, once. Pictures of the courtship and the wedding, the honeymoon and the babies that followed. But those had been lost in moves and thrown away, sometimes in sadness and sometimes in anger. He only had one image in his mind, and it was more of a visual sensation... It'd feel trippy if it weren't so emotional.
He sees her, senses her, really, leaning over him. The way she did when she was tucking him in, or bandaging a scraped knee. Her presence is calming, her aura only peaceful colors. He can feel her love and knows if he could just see her face, he'd see compassion and that familiar smile saying everything would be ok.
But he can't see her face. He can't remember her eye color or the shape of her nose. All her can see is one of the flowers that rested on her casket at the funeral. He was too scared to walk up to the open casket and gaze at his mother one last time, and now he had to live with the image of her face being a funeral flower.
Ever since she was little, Daisy was an outcast. All the other little girls were so pretty. Their hair had bows and braids and curls. Daisy's hair didn't have any of that. Mainly because Daisy didn't have hair. She had petals instead. She, of course, got made fun of and alienated because of it.
ReplyDeleteFlowers are beautiful. Yeah Right.
No one played with her during school, so during recess she went to the edge of the playground where the flowerbeds were.
The flowers never accepted her either. Although her petals were a beautiful hue, her arms were never quite leafy enough, being human arms. She never fit in with the other flower cliques because they all spent every second of their lives together, and Daisy only had thirty minutes a day.
By the age of seventeen, Daisy had still never had a date. Her petals had reached their maximum potential, as had her pistol, but no human boy would know that. Flowers were asexual, so she couldn't find a boyfriend there either.
At the beginning of her senior year, Daisy met Blake. She loved his eyes, his voice was amazing, and she wanted more than anything to run her hands through his hair. At home, she began to dream of him. He became an obsession to her.
She would sometimes go to her garden at home and talk with the flowers about him. They all teased her and said that she would fit right in with a "meat sack." The flowers were mean, but at least they talked to her. After the years of physical bullying, the verbal assault wasn't so bad...for a while.
Over time she grew tired of always being made fun of by the flowers. She wanted to show them that life outside of the garden was no picnic. She went to the garden and, without a word, throttled a handful of flowers. She ripped them from their homes, families, and friends - and took them into her bedroom.
She put them in a vase on her dresser. As they slowly began to die from a lack of nutrients, she showed them how hard it was to put on a shirt (such a mundane, daily task) without ripping a petal. She read all of her homework out loud so the flowers could see how boring school was. She then made the flowers into a coursage. She wanted to wear them to school to show them how horrible other kids could be.
DeleteThe next day the coursage saw how bad it could be.
"Hey, Petalhead," said Donna.
"Shouldn't you be on a bush somewhere?" asked Jessica.
Next, Daisy spoke to Kyle. "Hi."
"Shut up, Pansy," he giggled at his quip.
Daisy looked around to see if anyone noticed her embarrassment. Everyone did. She noticed Blake standing next to his locker with a smirk on his face.
She ran down the hall and into a door. Inside, she found the nearest corner through teary eyes and sobbed for what seemed like hours. She ripped the coursage off her shirt, threw it to the ground, and -as she stomped the remaining flowers to death- she cried, "I told you that flowers weren't good for anything."
A door behind her opened. A boys voice made her realize that in her embarassed state, she accidentally ran into the boys restroom. The voice said, "Actually, I like flowers. They are good for, well, some stuff."
This was the moment she had been waiting for. Blake was finally talking to her. And he actually liked flowers! "What?" she asked trying to mask excitement.
"You know Julie?" he asked, stepping seductively toward Daisy.
"Yeah," she replied, matching his step, "in biology?"
"Yeah," he put a hand on one of her petals and ripped it off of her head. "She loves me!" As he ripped off a second petal - through the pain, the screaming, and the blood - she heard him say, "She loves me not!"