Dear Diary,

August 15, 1917

Dear Diary,

It's been a month now and still no sign of Ed and Al. The Government proclaimed them dead last week, and held a nationwide mourning ceremony for the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother. Colonel Mustang spoke, and it was beautiful. At the end of the speach he started crying. But he just said it was a bad day to rain. Granny set up graves here in Resembol and held a small funeral, but I didn't go.

I mean, how could I? I want my last memory of them being alive, not looking at their names carved into two gravestones. Besides, a funeral is so... not Ed and Al. They wouldn't want people gathered to mourn over their loss. They hated hurting people. They were so kindhearted...

So in their honor I made two flowers out of alchemy. I'd seen Ed do it all the time when we were little. He'd always make his mom the most beautiful flowers. I remember one in particular that was a pastel purple with blue spots and the petals curved down in layers like a waterfall. It was amazing.

So I had gone outside with Ed's old alchemy notes and found a flower to use as a mold for the one I would make. I found a sunflower and studied it for a good hour before finally picking up a stick and carving the circle into the ground around it.

The notes said to imagine the flower in your head in great detail and mold it with the energy. The poor sunflower seemed hopeless as I failed miserably many times. I almost gave up. Well, I kind of did. I had touched the stem of the flower and closed my eyes. I imagined Ed's face when he was smiling and it was like magic when the alchemy flowed through my fingers, without even clapping my hands. When I opened my eyes, staring back at me was a scarlet red lily with golden tips.

It was beautiful, and the flower was like a manifestation of Ed himself. It was perfect. I found another flower and did the same for Al; his flower transforming from a plain daisy to a bright yellow rose tainted with grey spots. The flower was perfect for All too, but in a more tragic way.

I had put the flowers on the beds they had slept in when they were kids. It was hard sometimes considering that that room was right next to mine. Sometimes, when it was dead quiet at night I swear I could hear their muffled conversation like I used to. But I knew it was just a trick my mind was playing on me.

I'd never hear their voices again.