The Flower: A Fable

January 12, 2010
By Poisioned BRONZE, Carpentersville, Illinois
Poisioned BRONZE, Carpentersville, Illinois
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"behind this smile is everything you'll never understand"

"you remind me of the babe" --David Bowie

One day in the middle of spring, just as the flowers began to bloom, a little girl named Saika decided to go for a walk in the meadow. While on her walk she came to a beautiful patch of flowers, different from any other flowers she has ever seen. They smelled sweeter than the jasmine, were more vibrant than the iris, and held more love than the rose. Saika was flooded with emotion and didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. She sat down at the edge of the bed and leaned her glowing face down to take in their beauty.

“Hello child”
The girl jumped at the sudden voice. “Who said that?” She looked around but could only see flowers and trees.
“It’s I who speaks dear child.”
Saiki looked down to find that the mysterious new flower had spoken to her. “I didn’t know flowers could talk.”
“Flowers can do many things.”

“How come I never heard a flower talk before?”

“People who don’t listen, don’t hear.”

The girl was hurt by the words of the flower. After all, her mother always said that she was an excellent listener. “What kind of flower are you anyway?” Saika asked bitterly.
“I am the flower of the wind, for I help to sing its song. I am the flower of the sun, for I am here to great it every morning. I am the flower of this meadow, for I inspire it to grow.”
“You should meet my mother. She sings to me when we play and is there every morning when I wake up and she helps me grow so I can be a mother one day, just like she is.”
“Beware young child, for a mother and a flower are more different than you think.”

“You silly flower! You just need to meet her. Then you will see. You will love my mother. She loves flowers. She has them all over the house. None of the talk like you do. You must be a special kind of flower.” Saika jumped up and skipped out of the meadow to fetch her mother.
“Child! Foolish child! Wait!” But it was too late. The cries of the flower were stuck in the air around it.

The next morning, the mother came into Saika’s room with the sun. She sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, “My little cherry blossom, wake up. I have a surprise for you.”
Saika rubbed her eyes open and sat up to see, in her mother’s soil-soaked hands, the mysterious flower of the meadow. But when the girl spoke out to the flower, it did not answer back. “Flower, I'm listening. Why can’t I hear you? Why won’t you speak?” Saika looked up at her mother with confusion. “Mother, I'm not sure if this is the right flower. It smells as sweet, and is as vibrant, but it’s not talking.” “Oh my dear Saika, there is a price for beauty.” And with that, the mother got up and left the room. Left Saika to sit and wallow over the flower she would never hear again.

The author's comments:
The Moral: The flower in the vase smiles, but it can no longer laugh.

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