Tales of Time

Flowers

[Phyllis P. Kells]

Flowers wilt when not given enough nutrients to continue living.
Frankly, the same happens to people.
It’s not a fact, per se, but it's one of common sense. However, Phyllis figured this out the hard way.
He wasn’t into botany or the study of plants. Only ever having to learn about this subject in high school as an elective. Then again, the real reason why he actually chose that specific subject as an elective in the first place was because of his childhood best friend. Said companion was also ironically named after a flower. That name being Heather, Heather Hydrangea.
They were very close.
Having grown up in the same neighborhood, on the same street, right next to each other's houses.
Having gone to the same schools, in the same classes, always side by side.
Someone who didn’t know these two would mistake them for siblings, besides the fact that they looked nothing alike.
Phyllis was a tall and quiet young man [a forest elf to be exact] who always tried his best to stay hidden. Never wanting to stand out, he purposefully kept as quiet as possible. He pretended to be clueless at every little thing asked of him when, in reality, he could answer all questions without fail. Instead, he’d always give Heather the spotlight. He did it all willingly, of course. Heather was the shorter [druid demon], more sassy, uncaring gremlin type who’d always give everyone the side eye. Nevertheless, they were the perfect duo.
Think of symbiosis in a sense.
Phyllis helped Heather get to the top of the intellectual food chain through private tutoring sessions while Heather defended Phyllis from those who despised him for who he was. In all honesty, it was a relationship to easily envy.
That was until it ended.
Phyllis now sat upon that dust-ridden staircase.
Rusty and unstable, but it made him feel homely and safe.
The sun shined brightly upon him, his shadow only grew as the day waned. He continued staying seated at the edge of the steps. Silent, he felt the calm winds blow through his long, messy hair. The clear blue sky was followed by the soft hustle and bustle of city life. Nostalgia set in as he reminisced of a time years ago when he was still an innocent and oblivious child.
As the cool breeze brushed against his face, a flower petal gracefully landed on his lap. The remaining pieces of a broken blue hydrangea. The irony was uncanny.
Naturally, the first person that came to his mind was someone of the same name. Someone he desperately wanted to forget but wished to see once more.
It was stupid, he thought as he held the petal between his fingers gently. Staring into it with glistening green eyes filled with empty sorrow. That strange feeling of envy wafted through his mind like unwelcome storm clouds on a clear day.
Why did he even feel envious?
What was the point?
Maybe it was because he missed those sweet days, not having to worry about the unpleasantries of adulthood. The ways of life that beat others down and tormented people through vicious cycles of never-ending suffering. That cursed system bound by the law.
Or rather.
The day they had to part ways.
At that moment, he saw children dash past his house and down the sidewalk. Chasing each other, giggling, and having fun like any kid would. It was endearing.
Usually, he’d be happy for them.
Youthful and free from the burdens of what life had in store.
But this time, on this current day, he was jealous. Angry even.
The little flower crowns upon their heads weren’t helping.
Sighing, the steps below him creaked as he stood up and walked back into his desolate household.
Alone again.
Before leaving, he gave the staircase a last glance. Envisioning a scene that had unfolded years ago. A scene that changed his life forever. Whether for better or worse was up to debate; in his humblest opinion, it was either or. For these steps saw both the rise and fall of two close companions. Companions who naively desired a life of child-like wonder and amusement. Companions who thought everything would last in eternal happiness. Companions whose relationship withered away and crumbled into ash, now drifting in the intermittent gales of fate.
Opening the door and gingerly closing it behind him, Phyllis breathed in the dusty and dense air within. It was a mundane household with the basic necessities anyone would have, besides the excessive amounts of books and bookshelves lining the walls and floors and random antique objects placed neatly about the space. Frankly, for someone still in their mid-twenties, anyone would presume the person residing in this household would be far older.
But entertainment wasn’t the only reason why he had so many stories; so many chronicles to drown away his woes. He was always gifted in this sort of thing. Just to rid himself of that aching, envious feeling and fall into a world where anything was possible. A world where he could truly write his past, present, and future. A world in which he could experience all sorts of things the way he wanted.
That’s when his eyes fell upon a wilting plant by his kitchen window. The same piece of flora gifted to him by Heather; a slow and agonizing demise. He despised how it reminded him of that harrowing truth: nothing lasts, everything withers away.
Walking over in utter silence, Phyllis gingerly held up one of the flower’s leaves in hopes of magically reviving it. Obviously, that was impossible. If this were some sort of fantasy land in one of those stories he loved so much, then maybe he could have used a healing spell or a potion. Or he was just being crazy.
Scoffing, the man was about to turn away and leave. Maybe get drunk on more of those books. Until something, or rather, someone caught his eye through the dirty glass window.
He froze.
Sure, it was difficult to see past the glares of blazing sunlight and heat of this fine, hot summer day. But he swore he saw a silhouette. A silhouette of someone he’d never thought he’d ever see again. He could have also been hallucinating.
Now that he thought about it, when was the last time he actually had a meal? When was the last time he actually slept? Maybe he needed to lie down.
That was until—
Someone rang the doorbell.