Flowers, Bleeding Dandelions
After taking in what Sally had shown me, I felt like a dandelion seed who had caught a shimmering wind at long last- I was sad to see my kin still rooted to the stem, but could never return now that I had absorbed the knowledge of the air.
My sweet friend Sally had taken me to the Other Side.
My parents and most of the Elders murmured curses at the Otherlanders, maintaining a low roar of prejudice that I hoped (albeit with guilt) would die out soon.
On the Other Side, we spoke to a man on the verge of death.
He was injured. A long gash ran from his neck to his thigh, though from what I couldn't tell. It didn't look natural.
"Hello," he murmured. His voice was thick, earthy, and completely calm. "Look."
Thousands of tiny flowers- the petals were the most striking magentas and blues- burst from his wound. My god, it was incredible...it was a supernova of flora, an eruption of organic life and soul. Blood looked dirty-matte and sickly in comparison.
I wept. We had so much to learn from these people.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (5 so far!)
Average reader rating 4.00/5
Sounds a bit like the cycle of life described in Speaker for the Dead
As is often in the ficly format, this piece asks more questions than it answers and leaves the reader eager for more.
- #708 Posted 8 years ago
Thanks for the feedback, you two!
- #711 Posted 8 years ago
I love your use of the non-linear narrative. This reads like a spark in a wildfire, insignificant in scale but crucial to the whole picture. As ethelthefrog said, I long for more.
- #713 Posted 8 years ago
I'm struggling with how many metaphors are in this? There are so many possible interpretations and I worry I have interpreted it the wrong way. Very interesting though.
- #726 Posted 8 years ago
- 4 out of 5
- Published 8 years ago and featured 8 years ago.
- Story viewed 28 times and rated 1 times.
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