As the sun rises, beams of light roll down the mounds of dirt that entraps the plains, cascading down upon his freckles face to his short blonde locks. He lets the warmth embrace his body and melt his soul, but everyday as the warmth retracts and cool rushes over, night dawns. This was his signal to be at ease and lets his fatigue wash over him. He hides his face within his slim green hands and attempts to keep the heat he has accumulated throughout the day within himself. But as he does this, his eyes start to drop and his sun yellow petals that encircle his face start to close in, resting on his nose, hiding his face from the moonlight.
As the night progresses and sunlight bathes the valley, his eyes follow the insects and bugs that crowd around for his pollen. His sweet nectarine is a paradise or even a way of life for the living organisms that house nearby as he's the only person in this valley. His gaze travels along the walls of dirt, only seeing a blanket of green stretched along the floor. A cold breeze flies past making his body dance, then from the horizon a storm of dust dangerously laughs and rumbles the earth. His eyes frantically scan the surrounding area, once, twice, thrice but not any of the times is he able to find anything close enough for coverage. Two by two the insects crawl or fly away as they also sense the heavy storm approaching, thus leaving his frail body to fend for himself. Then at this exact moment, the sun he looks up to everyday disappears among a cirrus of clouds, hollowing his spirit out from under him. A blue haze spills into the valley and blurs his vision, dust swirls around left and right, creating mini cyclones all around. He is pushed backwards following the direction of the typhoon, but every now and then one of the mini cyclones wrap around him making him bend in all directions. His body is bent at an unusual angle and he lets loose his right leave to swirl among the breeze. Unable to cope he presses his eyelids shut and waits for the storm to make its way.
After the wind storm passes his vision returns, but instead of opening his eyes to see the green grass that once thrived in this vast bowl, his eyes are enthralled by the amount of chaos that the raging storm had left. Large amounts of greyish blue dust have been left lying on top of what was once grass and weeds, which have also been pulled up by their roots revealing the first that kept them grounded. The small bugs and insects in hiding have gone a at or have been swept up by the storms, and all that was left was a barren mess.
He wakes up with the sun already late in the sky as the sun from before had drained him of his energy, but again as he opens his eyes the scenery changes. The dust that was left from the storm had created dead weeds surrounding him in his valley, no insect had come by to visit since the day before and he was left more alone than usual. He wallowed in self pity and all the pent up anger and sadness had shot out. He shook violently, more violently than what the storm had done to him. He tried pulling his sun glazed petals out forcefully but he could not. He was writhing with anger, his venom spilling out from all the gashes inflicted by the storm. His frame was uneven and cause him to lean slightly to the left, his vision was a blur, his mind was lost, he let himself get carried away, but as time slowly passed, as did his rage. The sun was setting and from all wounds he inflicted upon himself the breeze had cooled him down. His eyes swollen with anger had closed in on themselves letting him pass out, but, as soon as he did the light from the sun had been put out and the moonlight laced around the so called weeds bringing them to life. It was if the moonlight kissed each flower individually allowing them to bloom. The low hazy glow that had come from one of the flowers moved quickly to the next, illuminating the valley in a soft blue gleam. The flowers whispered to one another as the cold breeze blew past them letting them sway as if they were doing the Mexican wave. The little whispers became louder like children speaking on top of each other, the night could've gone forever. But as the first ray of sunshine shone down upon a blue flower everything became silent. They all closed their petals and fell asleep at dawn. But this was the time for the sunflower to wake up, and he did of course. He woke up to the sound of silence, not a breeze, not a chirp, not a buzz, not even the sound of the whispers of children could be heard. He was alone in his own world not knowing of the night before, he had no more emotions to convey since his outburst, he was numb inside and so he continued day to day following the sun.
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