The Seeds

December 2, 2010
By Ty Ragan BRONZE, Phoenix, Arizona
Ty Ragan BRONZE, Phoenix, Arizona
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The sun set on rough day for some. From a wilting tree fell a pod, the last pod, and the last hope ffor growth. As heat from on the pod day after day, a small crack began to form in the hard exterior, and surely enough, four seeds were left exposed to the sun. A disease slowly spread across the land; drought. Rain would be coming soon, but not soon enough. The bottom of the pod slowly decomposed into the earth, and the seeds nestled softly against the ground, Three of the seeds shot roots into the ground, and clung to the earth. The last tried and tried; however, time was up, the storm was nigh. Three seeds were left in this unforgiving land, and it seemed three seeds were what it would forever be. The first seed, which was sheltered by leaves and shade sprouted, and a little boy, no more than three feet high, with a childish sense of humor decided to take the seeds home. The newly sprouted flower was compliant and complacent, yet the mere seedlings were reluctant to go, but the choice was not theirs. The hand of the child was rough, with calluses, and scabs had from cuts; it was this hand that pulled the seedlings from their home. The seedlings watched as the fruitful land, which was blooming due to the rains, transformed into a life sucking creature, and what they saw ahead was nothing but weeds, and a single house, the house of the boy. On the side was a garden, the boy planted the flower in the best soil next to a weed, which was shaded by a nice overhang, where all could see. The seedlings however were carelessly thrown into a sun beaten corner, surrounded by rusted chicken wire to keep all other things out. Their homeland was far beyond the horizon, and they were strangers now, even to their own relative, the freshly bloomed flower. Time passed and the seedlings were slowly withering away into nothingness, the soil was getting worse and worse, they were cramped, and water was a scarcity. As time went by the seedlings noticed something peculiar, the flower, that they had known since they were in that same pod, was changing. The watched as the golden petals fell off, one by one. The pedals hit the rich black soil, and wilted away, a gust of wind blew the brown wilted petals over to the seedlings. There the pedals seemed to fit in, against the grey, brown, dead soil, which could barely even be called soil. The petals that started to re-grow in the spots where the old ones fell out were different. Instead of full, beautiful, golden petals which once grew, these petals were grey, and stubby, and they matched the petals of the weeds which grew in the area. The summer passed, and the twelve hour days of sun and blue skies quickly changed to shorter days, with a dark sky. It was time for the Rain. The Rain only brought hope that the change in the winds direction would bring back the lost seed, but Rain came and went, without a sign of their missing seed. The seedlings finally started to bloom; however, they bloomed into jealousy and despair, as they watched the little boy care for the changed flower, and the weed he planted next to it, but continued to neglect the two flowers which had the golden petals that the other flower once had. The boy would water the changed flower daily, and the only water the other flowers got was the little splashes which deflected off dirt clumps and rocks, and trickled slowly in their direction. Rain was in the mountains, and with luck, it would roll down to the flowers. Sure enough one trickle of water made its way to the two flowers, but just before their roots could quench the seedlings thirst the root of the weed sucked it dry. The struggle for survival became unbearable, and the yearnings for the day when the lost seed would return just grew greater. Summer again left nothing but dry ground, and lifeless land. The flowers, on the verge of giving up, had to endure the boy pampering the changed flower, and the weed, but never acknowledging the two flowers in the corner. As the days got hotter and dryer, the flowers started to wilt. The storms came in, and wind blew strong. The loose dust in which the two flowers were planted in gave easily, and the flowers were blown away, to the middle of a beautiful land, all the way to an unfamiliar pond. The pond was green with life, but water meant nothing to them, neither did the green grass, or plentiful food, all that they saw was a beautiful flower, with petals such as theirs, and they were planted in rich soil by the same wind that blew them away. Just like that the storm stopped, and the wind was reduced to a breeze, and never again moved the flowers, but instead left the flowers to be with the one other flower like them.

Similar Articles


This article has 1 comment.

Gram R said...
on Dec. 9 2010 at 8:20 pm
Good writing, Ty.  Lots of feeling; shows the struggle for survival; good vocabulary usage; unique & interesting;   well-chosen by Teen Ink.  It did make me thirsty, tho. (:~)

Parkland Book