Flower Fields.

PHLOX

QUICK WARNING!! NONE OF THE PHOTOS ARE MINE UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE. ONCE AGAIN, THIS IS NOT A FANFIC. THIS IS MY FIRST STORY SO CUT ME SOME SLACK. THIS WILL ONLY BE HERE ONCE SO REREAD THIS NOTICE IF NECESSARY. THANK YOU FOR MAKING IT THIS FAR.

    The sun made the sidewalk ripple with heat. A faint mirage glistened on the street. The small pond was bone dry the stream leading to it was barely a trickle. Quickly turning, I walk back to my house. "It's to hot too go to the market." I mutter to myself. Once in the safety of my house, I watch the birds hiding in the slight shade of an oak sapling. There are no grown trees, only little ones.

     My town is recovering from a raid. Dozens of men clad in all black burned everything in sight and stole everything with even the slightest value. I was only fifteen then, and the town has changed a lot in those five years. The houses have been rebuilt, and the town square was newly built. Children were born, and people came of age, like me. The walls around the city were built higher, and water was brought in with wells closer to the city.

     The air smells like lavender, a beautiful scent, it makes the world seem at peace. The meadows just outside the walls are full of the harmonic scent, making it fell like a paradise. There are other flowers too, zinnias with their dazzling colors, gloriosa daisys with their vibrant yellow petals and chocolate centers, and peonies with their delicate pinks and silky spirals of petals.

     The sun sets slowly, casting looming shadows over the flower fields, causing the once colorful landscape to become a barren wasteland. The birds fly far away, trying to escape the clawing hands of darkness. I wish I could fly in moments like this, fly away and never come back. I turn away from the window. Striking a match, I light the dim lantern hanging in the middle of my small hut. The light flickers at first, the becomes a more steady glow. The once hot, still air becomes a chill, windy breeze.

     The small garden outside is coated in a thin layer of snow that is falling from the sky in a steady mist, causing the world to become much smaller and whiter. My candle dances in the pure joy of use, slowly becoming a nub. I crawl into my cot, and blow out the wavering flame.

     The weather has left by morning, seeming to never have been there. The only proof, is the dead plants in my flower beds.

     Once again the sun begins to warp the pavement, making my vision become as swirl of colors. The flowers release their intoxicating scent, making the air thick with the world's best perfume. Children run, laughing and unaware of the shadows flitting through the town. No one over the age of twelve is truly happy here, they all remember the wars the took place here, the bloodshed and tears. No, the children don't remember. They shouldn't, they should be happy, the bring a piece of joy, however small, to the village.

     I walk, dragging my feet towards the market. Buying some food, a loaf of bread and some jerky, I smile at Pepper. Pepper is a little girl, only six, but she holds such a pure spirit that no one can even glace at here with out smiling. She dances through the meadows, frolics in the stream, and spreads joy everywhere she goes. I wish I could be like her.

     I slog, slowly moving in the direction of the small gate that led to the well. The flowers waltzed in the gently breeze that sweeps through the field. Poppies, cornflowers, delphiniums, and carnations, all moving in a beautiful sway, seeming to be in sync, but not. Like my town. A particular patch of phlox catches my eye. They're blue, fading to a gentle purple. I pick one, knowing that my mother was named after these graceful blooms.

     I reach the well. Placing the flower down, I fill my flask and drink a little. The breeze picks up and my imperial violet phlox blows away, into the woods. I dart after it, but the wind picks up and soon the purple bloom is lost in the dark.

     It reminds me of when I lost my mother. She slipped away into the dark. Just too quick for me to reach her. I had cried; I was only thirteen. I've never meet my father, he left one day and never came back.

     Looking around, I realized I'm in the most angelic place known to mankind, The Meadow of Hope. Thousand of flowers glisten, as if still covered in morning dew, in the sun. A crystal clear river flows, babbling, though the heart of the sea of flowers.

     Tears run down my face, flowing freely to their destination on my shirt. This is where my mother used to take me. We would sit and name flowers, make dozens of flower crowns, and drink the purest water from the brook. Then she would sit me down on her lap and name star after star. Telling the stories of constellations, and of far away worlds on different planets. The next morning I would awake from a deep slumber, wrapped in my mom's arms. I would try and match her breathing, but I never could stay in sync that long, as my breath would quicken at the excitement of a new day.

     I look up trying to find the stars that are starting to appear in the growing dark when I see a purple dot, slowly descending upon the world as if gifted by the heavens. It draws closer, swaying slightly in the gentle gust gilding it into my hand. A little phlox rests on my palm, tired by it's long trip.

    If you find an errors tell me so I can fix them. I want everyone to enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it.

    Word count (including AN.) 1016.