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He wasn't trying to fly. That's just how it happened. (chapter 8) (457 hits)

Category: None

Rating: 2 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Labels:

Submitted by The Downward Spiral of your Mind (View user info) at 2006-03-24 12:57:52 EST


Everything had changed in a moment missed. He had never seen the plant bloom, yet now he stood before its progeny. Was this what destiny felt like? He was ecstatic, yes, but the terror in the room was crushing him. What would happen to it? Would it wilt before his very eyes? Would he have to place it in the sun again? Or would *they* find it, while coming to take him to the forest on the rare day of rain, and throw it from his hands, out of fear for the harm it would cause him? No -no, he would not allow it. Not again. This one would live. This one, he said to himself, lives.

Hastily he checked the door; still locked. And suddenly, he was overcome, leaning his head against the thick wooden door with exhaustion and anxiety. Turning around, still propped against the door with his legs as weak as they now were, he stared at it for what seemed an eternity, and may very well have been. He was struck with the horrible thought that, in reality, he had no idea what to do. But wait, his friends -yes, the ghosts from the books. He stumbled his way over to pick one up, opened it and summoned the only friends he had in this solitary prison.

He was told to keep his secret a secret. Only after hearing that was he struck with an urge to let it be known, to let his happiness loose on the world. His joy was great enough to mask out the sun itself, he was sure. But no, he would let himself be wise. And patient.

During one of his ghostly visits, he was told that flowers don't fear the sun at all, they NEED the sun. The ghost showed it to him in books; all the places where plants were said to thrive were places where the sun held sway. He found this difficult to believe, but he had no choice; it made sense, now. The last one had died in his care, obviously he had been mistaken about something. Besides, the ghost told him, even if too much of the sun could harm the plant, there is very little of the sun in this room; not enough to kill it, certainly. So he let the flower grow, moving it around the room during the day to follow the sliver of the sun's arc. Whenever he was given water by his "Curators," he was sure to share it with his flower. It was growing fast, soon its vines and leaves were over his head.

Then, one day, the moment he had been fearing; a knock at the door. "It's raining today," spoke a voice he recognized all too well. The words themselves were known too well. He had to disallow them, he would NOT sacrifice his only hope again. So he denied their offer. They were shocked, but as long as the door was locked they could not come in. He was horrified, maybe they know maybe they KNOW they MUST know I've never refused to go to the forest before what am I going to do can they come in no they can't but how will I ever go out after this they'll KNOW if I come out...

But nothing came of it. They figured perhaps he was in a particularly good stretch of a book, or was simply tired. No matter. Days passed. But his bandages began to slip, rot. Slowly, the holes began to grow, fraying along their inner edges and with each movement's rustle he felt slightly less solid. Something was happening to him, and it wasn't good. Perhaps the outside air had kept them fresh, perhaps the rain kept his flesh from becoming too heavy, he didn't know what it was but it didn't matter; all that did matter was that he was unraveling, and his body would not last much longer.

So long as the flower was safe, though, he knew he was doing right. This belief gave him more strength than ever before, made him stronger than the sun, stronger than any shading tree with water dripping from its bright leaves. Everything HAD changed; the biggest change of all was that, now, his life had a purpose.


x- (04-12-15) moon & plane.JPG (35 kB)

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User Reviews


Submitted by Paul_Monroe (user info) at 2006-06-17 02:29:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-06-08 13:29:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-05-25 02:13:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

What? I read this when I read the others, why didn't I review it then?

Anyway, +2.

Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2006-03-31 09:29:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

None needed.

Submitted by Istaros (user info) at 2006-03-24 13:53:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

yes.

Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-03-24 13:21:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Oh...so YOU'RE Istaros.


I wish for a turkey sandwich on rye bread with lettuce and mustard. And
-- and I don't want any zombie turkeys, I don't want to turn into a turkey
myself, and I don't want any other weird surprises -- you got it?

-- Homer Simpson
Treehouse of Horror II