Taint, Time and Tangents✔️

≑ Chapter Twenty-Eight

This is my late christmas gift to you and your wonderful friends, Ana Carmela Ceballos (Once_in_a_Green_Moon) Thank you for all the support. I love you <3

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C H A P T E R   T W E N T Y - E I G H T

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CALLIE

They say that dreams are reflections of a person's heart.

May it be a vague scene, an altered past memory, a wish that came true or just a whorl of nonsense events-- in a state of unconsciousness and inactivity, what the mind conjures is what the heart deeply longs for.

It might be true for most. But I might be one of those few whose dreams were in a constant loop. Every night, it was the same thing over and over again- replaying in my mind like it was intentionally planted there.

I had always dreamt of a flower.

Its small stalk standing in the midst of towering green blades, their shadows looming over it, dark and oppressive. Nevertheless, the flower gracefully danced on every brush of the wind, following the movements of its light fingers. Showered by the sun's light, its yellow petals stood proud against the pointed dull blades-- carefree and unyielding.

In my dream, that flower attracted too much attention; insects come and go, planting their feet just to admire its gracious beauty before flying away and never looking back.

Some time in my dream, its petals slowly moved close to each other, whispering something that only they could hear. In my dream, I watched how the brown leaves on their side silently followed suit-- embracing them tightly, protecting them until they formed a bud.

In a large meadow, one's eyes often spot what's the most striking. In that moment, no one could ever notice that there was a lone bud hiding amongst the green grass. In one's eyes, it was never there. The once most beautiful was now just a common and invisible entity.

The sweet serenity of the meadow was suddenly broken when droplets of water started raining down on the ground, showering the world its overflowing emotions. The bright vibrancy of the world turned shady, making the grass and trees cower in their feet and the birds seek for shelter. The heavens wept so as the creatures below it. However, there in the corner, looking up in the sky, bravely watching and accepting the tears of the mother nature was the lone bud.

What was it thinking?, I wondered.

The heavens must have heard the whimpers or maybe the songs of appreciation of the bud, for it gradually stopped crying and wiped away the clouds covering the giver of light. It brought back the sun which was just there, waiting for an opportunity to catch another glimpse of the needy world.

As the meadow slowly came back to life, the droplets of the heaven's tears on leaves and trees glistened like diamonds, crowning the greenery with astonishing sparkle and rich brilliance. Relieved sighs came from the scared grass, from the hiding birds and the shaking beaver before they went to their usual activity.

However, as everyone dances graciously with the fluttering air, there was no sign of the lone bud any more. Instead, in its place stood a stalk, a hand seemed to sprout from it, causing its previous brown and wilting leaves to slowly disintegrate. The hand which was curled in a fist, carefully opened up, showing the world its delicate fingers as white as a cloth and as soft as fur. One by one, the fingers stretched until what's left was a ball of cotton, just like a grandfather's hair, old and white.