Stigma

2

"You shouldn't be here"

He looked up in panic as a voice, sweet and soft, interrupted his thoughts. Instead of seeing an army officer or policewoman, he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Chrysanthemum? Zinnia? Dahlia? He didn't know, he'd never seen flowers so closely before. Huge glasses framed beautiful hazel eyes, surrounded by waves of beautiful apricot-coloured hair. She was truly beautiful.

"I know" he replied. He knew full well that if he was found in this side of the city he would be arrested and probably executed. But he just had to come here, it was so bright and cheerful and full of colours; such a contrast to his world of green and brown and mud. Everyone was so alive here, even the soldiers were jolly, wearing soft blue uniforms and marching along the streets. Nobody'd seen him yet.

Suddenly her outstretched hand brushed his. Surprised, he took it, and she pulled him along the streets, up to a weathered gate in a stone wall. He thinks she's about to arrest him, part of a new secret-police, out to get any people in the wrong place. Instead, she pulled him into an orchard and said

"You'll be safe in the orchard. The apples stopped growing so they stopped coming." Breathing a sigh of relief, he relaxed a little. He sat down beneath a twisted old apple tree. Looking at the leaves he saw that there were apples, fat red ones. Plucking one from the nearest twig, he bit into it, savouring the crisp taste.

"They came back, though." he murmured. He saw her chuckle when he sucked the sour juice running down his wrist.

"What are you doing here? Do you know how unsafe that is? If they found you here, nobody would ever see you alive again. And," she said, taking his hand again in her own, to his delight, "that would be a real shame." He smiled at her blush and that maybe she thought he was beautiful too. Nobody had ever found him beautiful before. Flippantly he replied, "I came here to find a maiden as beautiful as you to marry,", shaking her dainty little hand off his as he stood up to go. "But you're clearly not interested, so I'll be off." He lifted the bolt to the gate only to drop it again when she jumped up from the grass and pleaded,

"Wait! No, you can't go! I don't even know your name..." He slowly turned around, pondering whether he could trust her with even his name. "Juniper. But most know me as Jonathan," he replied softly as he unbolted the gate again. "Silver Fern." He added as an afterthought. He knew inside that he could trust nobody here, not even a girl as beautiful as this one, but he also knew she deserved his name. And his plant. "I'm Marigold" she whispered, and she let go of his shirt he hadn't noticed she'd grabbed onto. Marigold. Of course she was a marigold. Ignoring the part of his brain telling him that this was a bad idea, one that could get him in trouble in anybody saw, he kissed her gently on the ear.

The gate creaked open and he stepped out of the little orchard, into the bustling streets. Once again he was struck by how full of life they were, and how different this whole place was, fuller and brighter and better than his city. Briskly, he stepped out in the direction of home and prayed that nobody noticed him. Without even turning his head, he could tell that she was following him. He quickened his pace so that she lost him and, only when he could no longer tell she was there, he slowed down.

Later that night,Jonathan could not get the shine of Marigold's lips out of his mind, or hersoftly curving figure, or her soft voice. When he went to sleep he dreamed ofher, seeing her laugh and smile every day. He woke up with tears in his eyesand brushed them away shamefully. He knew that they could never be together.But when he woke up again in the morning, he was filled with joy, because heknew that true love always found a way. Smiling, he headed out of the door. Hehad a brilliant plan and he knew it wasn't going to go wrong.