Nawx

The Flower - Journal Entry II

The birds chirped. They sang the song of the eternal sleep. Passed down day after day, it seemed like there were more and more birds arriving every day. 

Were they purifying this place of its hidden darkness that laid within the bark of the trees? 

The trees stood high; they were the guardians of the forest after all. They would keep you hidden from anyone who may be attempting to do harm to you. But they might also be hiding the one who may harm you as well. 

There are two sides to a leaf. They may look the same, but there is always one side of the leaf that may appear to be darker, more broken up. These leaves represented the lives of the vast trees that grew out of nowhere from the nonexistent soils of this land. They had a magic that showed a bright light. But within the light, there was a darkness in its shadow.

I remember seeing my first flower. It was beautiful. The leaves struck out with it's shining and embraceable color. I thought the pink color of its leaves represented the light the world lacked. Could this flower have stolen the world's light? 

With my little hand, I went and grabbed the flower. But I was struck off guard as a piercing pain ran into the soft skin of my palm. The thorns of the flower sensed my presence. It made an attempt to kill me, but not from self-defense. The thorns represented the flower's darkness. They took their space underneath the flower's beautiful leaves. 

I didn't move my grip away from the flower. But I felt as though I was entwining with the flower itself. My blood poured out of my wounds from my cuts and onto the flower's stem. 

And I watched as the thorns of the flower devoured my blood and demanded more. 

The flower trusted me. It trusted me to provide it life. I fed the flower my blood. 

I tore off the flower from the ground. The stem hung down lifeless. It needed blood immediately. But it needed new blood, more mature blood. 

This flower's image was the birth of this world. How beautiful the world was that we missed out on. How the world can blossom into a beautiful flower like this one. It gave me the purpose to believe. 

It directed me to its food source. What it will take for the flower to continue it's blooming outside the ground, without the power of the world's core, the soil. 

My mother shot me a smile as I entered our home. Her smile was beautiful, it was beautiful like this flower. She seemed surprised to have seen this flower in my hand and assumed I had picked her this flower. She slowly took the flower from me, grunting from the sudden pain from the flower's thorns. 

I rubbed my thumb along the palm of my hand, feeling the intensity of the pain as my skin ran over it. A drop of blood would fall to the floor, creating a perfect circle underneath me. 

My mother opened her hand to see the thorns had grown. The thorns grew inside her wound from her cut. They were feeding off of her blood, her life, and made their way into every inch of her body. 

Her eyes darkened, she drooled a little bit. But I made sure to clean up her drool with a napkin. She'd wince from the pain eventually, but her body would then twitch as her skin slowly grew darker. And darker. And darker. 

Her skin wrinkled. I could see the shape of her bones underneath her skin, and the movements of the thorns moving through her body. 

Not a drop of blood dripped from her body when the thorns came out of her wounds. The thorns decreased in size, returning to normal. The flower shined brighter, and the leaves increased in numbers as it blossomed a bit bigger. It was becoming more healthy. 

I stood there, with no emotion on my face as I watch my mother on the ground sucked to death. She looked lifeless like she had gone rotten. But the flower spoke to me. The flower said that it'd be there for me as long as I was there for it. 

A friendship I could not understand or feel.