Flowers for Hannah

Books were sprawled across the hard wood floor. Some were hard cover, most black with a silver title on the spine. There was a red one; it had a black title in decorative lettering. The soft cover books looked more tattered then the others. Covers were bent and their spines were filled with little white lines where their reader reopened that page many times.

                In the middle of the book sea, a young woman sat with a tiny hard cover book in her hand. The book’s pages had turned yellow with age, they were bent and, a few had rips in them. Many of the corners had little folds from someone who had been trying to save their spot.  The cover was black with a red rose imprinted in the middle. There was no title on the cover or spine, just the little rose.

                The young woman gazed at it with empty eyes. Pain was swelling inside of her chest but she dared not cry. A light brown lock of hair fell from her messy bun that was twisted up and clipped. It fell in front of her muddy green eyes.

                She didn’t bother to move it, although it slightly blurred her vision. Instead she exhaled slowly and let her eyes fall shut. Her long eyelashes just barely reached her high cheek bones. Her skin was a milky chocolate, smooth and soft. 

                The thunder called and the lightening flashed. Her eyes popped open and glanced at the small room filled with boxes. The room was dark, only a small candle light sat of the floor giving the area around her a gloomy atmosphere. She didn’t seem to mind because her eyes went back to being fixed on the little book that she was holding.

                By tilting her head slightly the strand of hair fell out of her vision and she could see clearly again. She swallowed her access saliva like she was like swallowing a live goldfish. It went down hard and left a lump in her throat.  Slowly, with shaking fingers she pulled the book open to a page near the middle.

                Her breath came slowly, she could feel tears but she refused to let them fall from her eyes.  “I will not cry, Hannah, I promised…” She said softly to herself. She knew she could make this pain stop by just closing the book and putting it back in the box but yet she brought the book closer to her face and lifted out a small pressed flower.

                The flower had turned brown over the many years it had spent sitting in that book, it had been a tiny wild flower that two little girls had found when dancing in the bright sun on a spring afternoon. The woman could almost feel the warm wind brushing passed them as they whirled and twirled barefoot in the tall grass. Wrapped in the sun’s warmth they danced together until both fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

                She remembered the two little girls well, both full of joy and endless laughter. Their lives were simple and easy back then. However, before they knew it, boys, homework and responsibilities flooded their minds until there was almost no room for the two dancing girls that they used to be.

                Then the sickness plagued one of the girls and in a battle for life, she had lost. A promise was made on her death bed, “Okay Hannah, I promise, I...I won’t cry.” And then all that was left of the little girl was a flower that she had plucked from the ground on a spring afternoon and an unfinished diary.

                The thunder called and the lightening flashed. The young woman slightly jumped from the unexpected noise and dropped the flat flower back into the pages of the little book. Her heart beat picked up, I hate storms! She thought and she pressed the book closed. She sighed and pulled herself to her feet.

                One by one she picked up the books that she had thrown across the room while looking for the little book with the red rose on it. She put them in a box that was sitting on the floor in front of a pile of boxes, open. Once the floor was cleared she picked up her candle and walked to a window showing the parking lot beside her apartment.

                There were a few cars, trucks and, one mini-van.  A fence lined the parking lot and separated it from the parking lot to the apartment building next door. At the corner of the fence a patch of grass with a big tree sat. It almost looked out of place in this big city.

                The rain splashed on the pavement forming puddles for the small children to jump through once morning came.  Rain drops crashed against her window, making small tapping sounds echo thought the empty apartment.  With a sigh, she started to turn away, hoping the tapping wouldn’t keep her from sleep.

                The thunder called and the lightening flashed, so bright that it caught her attention and she gazed out the window just under the out of place tree. She saw a tall yellow flower poking its head out of the wet grass. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth hung open; the wild yellow flower was just like the one that the two dancing girls had picked.

                Without thinking twice she pulled on her coat and rain boots and flew out the door. She rushed down stairs, taking two steps at a time. She pushed open the glass door and ran to the parking lot holding her hood up.

                The cold wind was pushing her back as she tried to make her way to the patch of grass. Rain was fell hard on top of her, she was shivering in the cold and every step she took her legs felt heavier.  She splashed in a puddle that was deeper then she had expected and her jogging pants quickly became soaked.

                She stepped on the bottom of her wet pant leg and began to stumble; the wind picked up even harder and helped push her to the ground. She caught herself of her hands and knees and didn’t waste time pulling her back up. Now her legs were completely wet and the palms on her hands had damp scrapes on them but she ignored the burning of her palms and kept pushing forward.

                When she finally made it to the grass she carefully pulled the stem of the flower out of the ground and tucked it into her coat so it wouldn’t get damaged on her way back. With a deep breath she looked back at the glass doors and started to move forward.

                The thunder called and the lightening flashed.  First all she could see was blue, and then the tree lit up an orange colour that glowed around it for a moment. The crash was loud in her ears and disoriented her for a moment. A loud shriek escaped her lips and then she was frozen into place. All sounds were muffled from her disorientation. She couldn’t move her limbs, she stood as still as a statue breathing slowly.

                A branch fell down behind her, crashing to where the flower had just been. She paid no mind to it, even though the branch came close to hitting her.  She watched the rain fall down around her and crash off of the cars and ground.  What was I thinking? I am just going to get myself killed out here… She scolded herself in her mind, the only thing she really could do.

                Then a thought came, a memory. A stormy spring afternoon a voice giggled, “It’s silly to be afraid of storms! Just stay inside and they will never get you! I promise, okay?”

                The thunder called and the lightening flashed but this time she didn’t scream. She pressed her hands to her ears trying to make them hear normally again and then looked at the glass door, “Just get inside…” She echoed the voice in her mind. One foot in front of the other she made her way to the glass doors and pulled them open.

                A breath of relief came once she was out of the storm. She slowly climbed up the stairs and back into her apartment. Not even bothering to take off her coat and boots she pulled all of the books out of her box until she found a little book with a tiny rose on it. She opened the first page of the book and in messy hand writing on the center of the page it red, “Hannah’s diary” around the words swirls and flowers were drawn.

                A smile tugged on the corner of the woman’s mouth as she read the diary again and then when she was finished she pressed the yellow flower into the book and hugged it tightly to her chest. The thunder called and the lightening flashed but the woman just smiled thinking of her best friend’s face light up as she pulled the yellow flower from the soil, “Flowers are my favourite!” she giggled.