Pretty Little Peonies

𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙴𝚂

    Pretty Little Peonies      

FlashBack:March 14 2049
The first time it happened I was 8. I had been in Ms.Watson's class practicing proper water distribution, hands firm against the metal watering can. As though my hands were sculpted for this very moment, I had become accustomed to the can in my grip. It was featherweight like one single needle beneath my fingertips, besides the fact that there were at least 32 ounces present in the device.  IIn the meantime my classmates had been scurrying about the array of peonies in our rows when the first one dropped. It had been Jonathan Lenols, he was 8 too.
Flashback:March 6,2049
          We were never close,I mean how close can 8 year olds be? A week prior I had been at his birthday party, I vividly remember the whale shaped balloons and kiddy race cars with split tales circling the table like a rally of sharks inching in upon a minnow pod.The theme for his "extravaganza" was Whale-a-Race, and back in 2049 that was the best show for a kid to watch.Both academic and Visual wise.
John was in a ball stuffed in the darkest corner of the party he could find,faint of light and held the least amount of joy the room could encapsulate.I proceeded.
"What's wrong?"
He looked up at me off the floor with puffy eyes, drained from tears, puzzled.
"I-" he continued with caution" I can't find my toy shark" he sobbed.
I held out my hand. His fingers twitched and leaped into my palm. I wasn't sympathetic in the motion, just bored enough to help.
The rest of the evening was spent playing detective in search of his shark whilst the other children proceeded to ravage on cake until they passed out. We chased each other in circles, racing through the courtyards, wrestling, and jumping off chairs to see who could hold out longest. It was nice. We found the shark hidden between two aluminum chairs that would make an irritably painful squeak like chalk scratching against Ms. Watsons board  when moved. John and I broke out in long-lasting-laughter almost choking  after watching his mother pinch her finger while trying to get it. I had never spoken to John before that day but, after that night I felt I had made a new friend.
FlahsBack;March 14,2049
Now my new friend stood puzzled once again staring at the ground. At the lilac flower pot with dirt spewed in its surroundings like the floor confetti he had bashed only a week ago. In the middle stood a small plant laying against the concrete. It had vivacious cloud-like petals that cushioned its Sepal in a delicate motherly-like notion. I looked back up from the floors to see my new friend once again now staring at me teary eyed once again. I questioned what effect caused his sudden reaction.  That's when my eyes darted to the pot once again and realized that the stem connected to the base of the sepal no longer held as one but was split in two. Once I had realized I looked back at him. He stood still, skin deprived of all color, as though he was carved in monochrome shades. He trembled. The whispers were faint but always there. I had heard of the devious tales that occurred when an individual killed their plant. Present one day, mysteriously vanished from the classroom the next. March 14 2049 was the last day I saw Jonathan Lenols. The teachers told us that he had been sent to boarding school to be disciplined for his unruly planting manner.
Of course now I'm aware now that's a load of Bullcrap but, I guess I should've already known that after his guts had stained my cherry blossom skirt.
   The garden had carried him off , and now he laid six feet under decomposing in some randos landfill. In 2032 the human race was almost wiped clean because of oxygen deprivation due to soil erosion. And to make up for that in 2037 the government began their genius "PEI"(Project Eco Individual) drilling. The name sounds pretty cute upfront, like something a child author might use as an adjective for the main character with an infuriatingly humongous savior complex.
But the project in itself was the complete opposite. Some old man(barely pushing 70)  in a gray suit named Walten Alberts was the founder. It was thought by Mr. Alberts that if we could get every person to raise just one plant, each century Oxygen Deprivation chances would decrease by twenty percent . And I think we're well aware any government official listens to any person whose skin is as light as Cottage cheese and holds between  their legs   a Wad of cash. So to enforce his shiny new policy he slapped a death penalty on it,like a "Fragile Do Not Drop"  label on an amazon package. Meaning that if your plant  didn't outlive you, the garden would take it upon themselves to send intensive heat radiations through essentially pronouncing you brain dead, like a visit with a pretty little pile of stones.
Just a heads up Amazon workers never listen.
Neither do people.
The garden halved the population in 1 year.Thats when people started taking it seriously. A once forgotten hobby became a necessity for survival, gardening became a primary subject in schools from kindergarten to college in light of the recent, "couple of deaths"(That's how the news reporter said it at least).
That moment that John's plant  had reached the ground's surface unprovoked was the moment his life became a number. He didn't get to have a 9th or 10th birthday.He didn't get the opportunity to welcome his new baby sister home or congratulate his older brother for graduating from college. He never made it to his graduation. Our school didn't even put in an effort to acknowledge that he was once a student.A student who attended there school. Who had attended "Kansa Balarence elementary school" .He didn't  get a funeral.I didn't get a goodbye.He had become a Jane Doe.
All because of one little peony.
Today is for him, today is for John.

Present:March 14,2057
I bent down reaching for the laces that were weaved on the floor like a lake carved through my tiles and laced them into a pretty little bow.

In contrast to the waves within my laces I bent back up at an almost perfect 90 degree angle.I repositioned myself to face the mirror that stood against the closest  wall. Its frame had intricate swurves and curls that resembled the oceans tides at moonlight, dancing under the night sky as though to appease Selene herself. I began to analyze my features. My nose was an anchor that sank desperately to my upper lip as though in an attempt to hold my eyes above the ridge that split my face in two like a boat in the ocean. Lips cracking like city sidewalks that hadn't been reinstalled since 1942. I never thought my face was anything special. Then again I don't really think that matters,anymore at least. But there was one thing I always liked. My hair. It was bouncy and full, I liked to think that this head of hair held the world's greatest treasures. Within each lock another memory unlocked through fibers and DNA strands tracing back decades. It was nice to know that even if I forgot someone or something they would always be with me.I would need them for today.My final hurrah.
I had been anticipating this day for months.    
A sound similar to bells chimed.I paved through my living quarters to my phone that slipped into my fingers and read an alert from a fellow rally director.
Text Message
From:Kenny
"Rally starts in one hour,Let us know when you've arrived"
I had my first step in mind:exit the house.
I clutched my keys by the gold ring that binds them and spray painted posters with plants carved through them and set in motion the 2056 Honda Civic my mom had handed to me for my latest birthday. I placed my pretty little keys into the ignition, and with the first "vroom" I was off and out on the open road.
  People say that one moment doesn't define you, I disagree. The moment my mother sat me on our faux green sofa that I till this day believe was made of crocodile skin, and told me we were all destined to die I had changed.It had only been 30 minutes but I had felt I had been through back to when I didn't know what the solution to 2x3 was. Now I stood between my past and present in front of "Kansa Balarence elementary school" next to three hundred other civilians. Posters were held to the sky, like a jungle with trees hanging high reaching for the stars. At this moment I had become a tree as well. Replicating the crowd's sway of signs. I pulled out my phone and notified Kenny of my arrival.
My guess is Kenny got the hint because he strutted to the school's steps and held a speaker phone to his mouth and voiced to the crowd like a lion asserting its dominance. They lowered their voices and murmured. He spoke confidently with strides of hope.Preaching to the choir what they had all wanted to hear. Then he spoke his final words in hushed tones that felt like thunder striking through his mic,
"And so for the next generation we WILL DROP THEM"
After a series of noises ranging from clicks and clacks arised.Glass shattered all around me with bodies dropping and towering on one another like a stack of pancakes.I hadn't thrown my peony yet. I wasn't afraid of the device in my ear that would blow me up, once I dropped my plant.
I just needed a moment,
I hadn't lost a lot besides John.
I don't think I'll ever understand why his death held this strong of a hold over me . Over 10 years and till this day I can't help but think I could've stopped it. It was my fault .
He tripped on my foot.
Mine.
I didn't get the chance to save John but maybe just maybe I can save one other person.After today the news will read Three Hundred People Dead After Dropping Their Plants At A Protest. And I will become a number aswell.Another part of  the 43% that passed. And I can only hope that someday tomorrow it'll read "PEI canceled after recent rally resulting in the death of 300 New York citizens."
I would give up anything to read that.
I let my fingers caress the pot one last time before letting it slip.
My eyes darted to the pot to see that the stem connected to the base of the sepal no longer held as one but was split in two. And the pretty little petals no longer seemed so. Pretty

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐:)