He wasn't trying to fly. That's just how it happened. (9) (567 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.44 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by The Downward Spiral of your Mind (View user info) at 2006-03-25 12:26:59 EST
He awoke one day, in the middle of its night, to a harsh *thump* on the floor beside him. Groggily, he turned his head, resting his one unbandaged eye to where the noise had been born -and saw a hand, a few stippled bandages trailing sickly from it. The little flesh that could be seen peeking between the bonds was grayish and leathery. What is a hand doing here, he thought... Especially my hand. Wait -my hand! He was suddenly awake, staring at the stump at the end of his left arm. He had been weakened beyond repair. What will they think, he wondered, when they see... They cannot. I will not let them.
He looked at the flower, and was unsure of what he felt. There was still wonder, and love, but hope had been perverted into something else. He was scared of it, while also being concerned for it. He realized that what had caused his body to weaken so was probably how he had been moving it around with the bare bit of sunlight that invaded his room daily. All he had done was try to care for it... Now he was paying the price. A ghost spoke to him; See? The sun has not harmed the flower. It has strengthened it. It should be taken outside, now; that way it can truly grow. A single blossom will suffice. To the forest, there the sun's eyes can invade without being too harsh.
The ghost disappeared with a tight rap coming from the door; apparently, the sky had rained again. Numbed by fear, but steeled by resolve, he agreed to come out, hiding his handless stump in the folds of his shirt.
The forest was the same as it had always been, every time he'd come. Winter had passed during the time he'd been helping his only real companion grow, and now everything was blooming anew. Wet grass, soft leaves, the whole vista. But he wasn't too interested in staying. When his "Curators" were idly chatting about whatever was going on in the unimportant world outside, he crept over to that stream where he'd first found the flower. Seeing the spot he'd dug it up, he remembered the splashing fish, and how forlorn it seemed now. So pointless. Quickly he dug a small pit, and shoved the clipped stem into it, covering it back up quickly, but as gently as he could. Standing up, he noticed how small and delicate the flower seemed. There were at least five other flowers now shining out of his pot, where he'd planted the thing he'd found; but still, separated from its roots, this one seemed fragile and useless. He turned around promptly and, saying he felt tired and bored, they left.
By the time he got back to his room his right shoulder, which still had a hand on its arm, was hanging on to his body by mere threads of flesh. The flower had done nothing for him, in the end. He had helped it grow, and now his body was finally falling apart. He couldn't go back and repair his error, but that didn't lessen his anger towards the alien plant. He would burn it, if he could; but they had replaced all his candles with lamps long ago when, in the deep of winter, he had knocked one over in his sleep and his room nearly burned down. They trusted him with nothing. And for once, he realized how right they were to feel this way. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he turned to the chipped clay pot. He was ready to get rid of this pointless plant, this lying hope, once and for all. If it would not burn, he could still crush it until its juices ran over the floor boards. He could suffocate its blossoms between the pages of his books. Or he could starve it to death. He would tear it apart with his teeth, if he had to.
But, turning towards it, he froze. It had grown even more in his short absence. It had outgrown the pot, which now lay in cracked pieces over the floor. Fine. It was going to be uncooperative. He realized there was no point in keeping his secret any longer. He walked over to the door, ready to knock and tell them what he had done. He didn't fear punishment, they could do what they liked. Didn't matter.
Right as he was about to do so, one of the ghosts called out. He stopped, listened; it was asking for help. Help? What can *I* do to help, he asked. And why should I bother, you're not real. I just made you to keep myself from going insane, in here. You're as useless as that stinking plant. Besides, you caused this to happen to me. I followed your advice, I gave the flower sunlight, now look what's happened. I have no reason to trust you... To trust myself.
But he knew there was something more going on. The ghost's voice was... strong. It didn't sound as if it came from within him. He heard a glimpse of the outside world in its voice. It was the noise of forests, of rain, but even more, it was the buzzing noise of the sun itself. His bandages began to slip off, one by one dropping to the floor around his feet, brushing by his thick legs as they floated down. Some fingers dropped off his remaining hand, and the shoulder to which it was connected sagged down even further. Just moving it could cause it to fall straight off, now.
He listened; the ghost told him it was time to visit the sun.
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User Reviews
Submitted by Paul_Monroe (user info) at 2006-06-17 02:30:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-06-08 13:35:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2006-03-31 09:34:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
There were a couple of sub-standard sentences here and along with your persistant self-plus2ing, I feel the need to penalise you.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-30 00:19:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Deconstruction (user info) at 2006-03-26 00:24:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I like your username
Submitted by midwesternknight (user info) at 2006-03-25 23:43:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Just got through reading the series so far, very nice, I don't understand why it isn't more popular
Submitted by Istaros (user info) at 2006-03-25 19:05:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
that's ok, neither does ampersand
Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-03-25 17:55:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't know what syntax is.
Submitted by Istaros (user info) at 2006-03-25 15:33:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
eh, i wouldn't come here if i didn't expect the odd moron or two
Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2006-03-25 14:20:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't be fucked reading it.
Here's a +2 to counteract that other moron.
Submitted by ampersand (user info) at 2006-03-25 13:36:25 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
I didn't really read much of it because I have a short attention span but I noticed you had no reviews so here's a -1 for some awkward syntax in the first bits.