Tom-Pen
Mysterious Writer
Preface: This is a story, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have anything to say, bad, good, or completely irrelevant than by all means do so. This was inspired by Elle Joyner's thread, "Inanimate Object Exercise"
Credits: @Elle Joyner Thank you for the inspiration to give a soul to the soulless.
The Romance of a Jealous Flower
So many have come and gone, one after another, and still I am alone. I am beautiful, I am sweet, but never has a man given me. Right now, this very instance I can see a young man, very handsome, coming along the path. He pauses for a moment, I am just beyond his grasp, how I wish I could detach from that which holds me down and go to him but I can not. A young women makes her way down the path now heading towards the man, she is as beautiful as he is handsome. With haste he turns to me and my many sisters, we are all pink with glee, but alas' I am not one of those to be picked, I never am. The young man, a bouquet of just picked pink flowers hidden behind his back, turns in time to greet the young woman just as she has arrived at him. He bows with extreme elegance and then, to her utter surpirse , the young man presents the bouquet of flowers; the young woman's expression resembles that of a young child's who has just witnessed a magician mesmerizing trick, the excitement and thrill pouring from her eyes. The two walk away, the young man with his arm around the young woman, she clutching the bouquet of flowers with both hands smelling them with delight. For some time things went on quite the same, with many young men and women, I never being chosen.
I long for a life, as short as that life may be, of love and romance. I am beautiful, I am sweet, but never has a man given me. In my sorrow I begin to wilt, just ever so slightly, my head drooping down, the pink fading a little from my peddles. It was then that I, for the first time in my life, felt the touch of a hand upon my stem. A tiny pluck and suddenly I was lifted into the air and brought round' face to face with a man who sat upon a tiny red brick wall. "Poor little flower wilting, and not yet having lived your purpose." He said softly to me. "If I had a woman to give you to I would." His grip was light so I did not fear being crushed, but strong enough to keep me safe from falling to the ground. He twisted me by the stem and I twirled like a ballerina, never had I been so happy.
The man caught sight of a woman seated on a bench across the path and said to me, "Come, I shall help you," and with haste we went to her. The woman looked up from behind her book, the man stood holding me out to her. "For you my dear." He said as the woman took me. I was nervous, I didn't know what the woman would think of me, my pink not as bright as it had once been, and my head drooping still ever so slightly. "It is lovely." She said quietly while she too twirled me like a ballerina, just as the man had done, my joy and happiness bringing just a tinge of color back to my peddles. "You are welcome." He said with a nod as he turned to leave. "Wait!" The woman had spoken with more excitement in her voice than she had planned, as she looked a little embarrassed for a moment. The man stopped with a look of surpirse and curiosity. "Would you like to walk with me?" She asked, setting me on the bench and standing up. "I'd love too." He said with a smile putting his arm out for her to take. She accepted the gesture and they began to walk off together, the man glancing back at me lying there on the bench. He said nothing but it didn't matter, I knew what he meant to say. "Goodbye little flower."
The two disappeared around some hedges and I was left alone, dying. My wish had come true, I had lived the life every flower wishes to live, however short it may be. I laid limp on the bench were the woman had set me to rest, my joy great and sorrow gone, my color fading. "Goodbye little flower."
Credits: @Elle Joyner Thank you for the inspiration to give a soul to the soulless.
The Romance of a Jealous Flower
So many have come and gone, one after another, and still I am alone. I am beautiful, I am sweet, but never has a man given me. Right now, this very instance I can see a young man, very handsome, coming along the path. He pauses for a moment, I am just beyond his grasp, how I wish I could detach from that which holds me down and go to him but I can not. A young women makes her way down the path now heading towards the man, she is as beautiful as he is handsome. With haste he turns to me and my many sisters, we are all pink with glee, but alas' I am not one of those to be picked, I never am. The young man, a bouquet of just picked pink flowers hidden behind his back, turns in time to greet the young woman just as she has arrived at him. He bows with extreme elegance and then, to her utter surpirse , the young man presents the bouquet of flowers; the young woman's expression resembles that of a young child's who has just witnessed a magician mesmerizing trick, the excitement and thrill pouring from her eyes. The two walk away, the young man with his arm around the young woman, she clutching the bouquet of flowers with both hands smelling them with delight. For some time things went on quite the same, with many young men and women, I never being chosen.
I long for a life, as short as that life may be, of love and romance. I am beautiful, I am sweet, but never has a man given me. In my sorrow I begin to wilt, just ever so slightly, my head drooping down, the pink fading a little from my peddles. It was then that I, for the first time in my life, felt the touch of a hand upon my stem. A tiny pluck and suddenly I was lifted into the air and brought round' face to face with a man who sat upon a tiny red brick wall. "Poor little flower wilting, and not yet having lived your purpose." He said softly to me. "If I had a woman to give you to I would." His grip was light so I did not fear being crushed, but strong enough to keep me safe from falling to the ground. He twisted me by the stem and I twirled like a ballerina, never had I been so happy.
The man caught sight of a woman seated on a bench across the path and said to me, "Come, I shall help you," and with haste we went to her. The woman looked up from behind her book, the man stood holding me out to her. "For you my dear." He said as the woman took me. I was nervous, I didn't know what the woman would think of me, my pink not as bright as it had once been, and my head drooping still ever so slightly. "It is lovely." She said quietly while she too twirled me like a ballerina, just as the man had done, my joy and happiness bringing just a tinge of color back to my peddles. "You are welcome." He said with a nod as he turned to leave. "Wait!" The woman had spoken with more excitement in her voice than she had planned, as she looked a little embarrassed for a moment. The man stopped with a look of surpirse and curiosity. "Would you like to walk with me?" She asked, setting me on the bench and standing up. "I'd love too." He said with a smile putting his arm out for her to take. She accepted the gesture and they began to walk off together, the man glancing back at me lying there on the bench. He said nothing but it didn't matter, I knew what he meant to say. "Goodbye little flower."
The two disappeared around some hedges and I was left alone, dying. My wish had come true, I had lived the life every flower wishes to live, however short it may be. I laid limp on the bench were the woman had set me to rest, my joy great and sorrow gone, my color fading. "Goodbye little flower."
