Daily 25: 548 words

she started as white: letting her precious petals unfurl to the evening air for the very first time, inhaling the deep, vibrant scent of new life. a thought (her first thought!) entered her mind, and with it, her first emotion: an overwhelming sense of wonder, traveling from her deepest root to her frailest leaf and her purest petal. “gee, it sure is lovely here!”
carefully, she turned her face to the sun shyly, let the light fill her up as she straightened with precious strength. the flowers around her welcomed her into the field, and the melodic birds that passed by sang her their own special songs. “welcome to our field!” they called. “ we hope you enjoy your stay.”
“I think I like this place,” she murmured to herself. “everyone seems so kind.”
but soon, the day turned to night, and the little flower soon found herself alone amongst the incoming dark, the pretty white of her petals fading to a shadowy black. S the little flower looked around for her friends, but found no help. all she saw was the night, until a glimmer of hope appeared in the inky black: a single star, twinkling stubbornly against the invasive darkness. “hello, little star!” the flower called up to it. “We are here, you and me, together in this night. We will face it, little star, and emerge from the darkness with a triumphant burst of hope.”
The little star twinkled in response, and so the tiny flower went to sleep, content in the knowledge that her little friend in the sky would watch out for her.
But, alas, the night soon burst into daytime, fabulous blue sky and cotton-candy clouds painting the heavens. It was a beautiful day, and all of the flowers in the field (except our little flower, of course) knew what that meant. And so they turned their petals inwards and slouched downwards, becoming invisible, fading into brown. The flower didn’t understand.
She cried, “Why do you flowers hide your beauty? Why do you cover yourselves from the warm, lovely air?”
but the flowers didn’t respond, listening intently for the crunch of sneakers in the distance. A passing bird whispered to the flower, “Shh, they’re coming! Hide, quickly!”
The flower still didn’t know why, so she stubbornly allowed her petals to face the air defiantly. “I will stand proud amid the oncoming storm,” she yelled confidently. “I can do it!”
Soon, the flowers heard what they were searching for. Up the hill and into the field, children of all shapes and sizes stampeded across the field, trampling grass and shrieking so loud the flower felt the vibrations in her soil. One child, a young girl, noticed the pure white of the flower’s petals and crouched down, speaking to it. “You’re pretty, little flower. I think you’ll be a great gift for my mama.” And so the young girl grabbed the flower by the stem, pulling it up and dusting off the dirt with a squeamish frown. The flower winced, and its petals immediately shriveled to a dark, sad brown.
and that, little flower, is why, when the sun comes up and the echo of human feet arrive in the distance, we huddle together, into the ground. Come now, little flower, stay safe with us.