FLOWER

CHAPTER 1.1

 It makes me want to rip the shags from my head. I would forget not the hair! Only petals or thorns or possibly leaves, after all, the name obliges. Not every parent names their daughters after flowers. Only because they want a garden and can't afford the expense at the time. So let the children be flowers. Since the Rose is already growing for us you can sow Nasturtiums. I bet that's exactly how my parents planned my sister. Unfortunately, over the years some things change, like parents' savings. And that's my whole problem.

I understand dreams should be fulfilled, realised. But why did everything take place behind the daughters' backs. Since we take an active part in it. And we don't even know where, what, how. Everything kept secret. It's a good thing they told us to pack up. And it's eating me up inside. What are they even thinking. Children and fish have no voice. I look at my parents from under the bull's-eye in the front seats of the car. I can't get over it. Ever since we left, they have had a smile on their face and lips, cooing, joking and singing old hits. It is wonderful for them. And my back hurts. I can't sit anymore. I change position for the thousandth time. Nasturtium is sleeping soundly next to me. I envy her. I close my eyes. Maybe I will fall asleep.

- Wake up. - Says the happy mum. Sleep is not for me today.

We are driving past blocks of flats whose plaster is falling off. The once beige walls have gone grey. Ugly graffiti in some places. A rubbish heap is smashed up as if an animal were feasting. Small shops, a shabby sheet metal clad gym building with a red sign. But somehow I wouldn't regret it if I slept through this part of the journey. The building with the playing fields emerges from around the corner. Covered in ivy with barred windows, I only associate it with one thing and it is definitely not a school. The only building without damage appears to be a brand new supermarket.

- Where have you taken us?

- How do you like it-Mom asks in larks.

- It's terrible here.-And that's the softer version of my statement.

- Do you really want our honest opinion?-Sister asks frankly.

- 'It's a good thing, because you'll be going to school here.-Dad declares with a satisfied face.

- What? Here! - shouts the surprised sister.- You've got to be kidding. It's a forgotten place.

- Before you know it, you'll fall in love with this place.

- Yes, I'm already blooming with delight. I'm going to dry my roots here.

- Take it easy. We'll water you, flower, we'll give you fertiliser.- Dad winks in the rear-view mirror at his sister.

- Honey! Manure, she'll get better right away.

 Surprisingly, wygwizdowo has municipal rights. Although it still doesn't make me feel any better. I already miss the real city.

The dense, though small, buildings give way to rarer single-family houses, and they slowly come to an end. There are now only fields, meadows and, in the distance, a forest. And in front of it, a barn, which is all around covered with weeds. And a small marsh on one side. Which is crossed by a wooden fence, half torn down and probably rotten.

- What is this hovel?" asks the sister.

- You want to take a look.

 I don't understand why stop here, the scrub, the bog, the fence substitute. And the star of the show is the barn. All boarded up with old grey boards and closed shutters. On the roof, moss-covered tiles of a slightly darker colour. Which makes for an almost uniform block from a distance. There really is nothing to see here. Even if I try. Although there is still a chimney. The power lines. Is this a year-round building? I have a very bad feeling about it.