flickr photo credits: (1) Serenae (2) Serenae (3) bionicteaching (4) Serenae (5) bionicteaching
Five Card Story: Summer Mourning
a Five Card Flickr story by Ken Rodriguez created Jul 24 2019, 08:13:36 am. Create a new one!
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It was the last month of summer. The weather was hot and dry but a bit breezy — just right for going out alone. The trees were swaying and the wind was slightly whistling which is the only thing I can hear from this quietness.
I remembered myself walking somewhere my feet brought me. I was walking continuously while wondering about my existence, my purpose. Few steps later, I saw a single flower at the corner of my eye. The flower was white and unbelievably glowing yet it looks kind of withered. My pupils became dilated the longer I stare to that flower.
"That wasn't there earlier," I mouthed out of the silence.
I felt an unexplainable force that pulls my feet towards the flower. Every step feels like a mile closer to utopia. As I walk to it, the glow fades to a point it becomes discernible and the entire field eventually revealed a hundred, or even a thousand of the same flower.
"Roses," I said. "White roses."
I was stunned by their beauty and purity.
So, I kneeled down to smell it. It smelled like — the scent of Saturday. I thought of picking a petal from the rose. I nervously moved my hand towards the flower while my lips were smiling unconsciously. As soon as my fingertips landed on the petal's surface, I was pulled back by what my eyes witnessed.
All the roses turned to pink and their petals became entirely fresh, just like the one I gave to my mom for last year's Valentine's Day.
I don't personally believe in magic, so these flowers must be really special.
I lay down on the grass. Now, I'm watching the sky while surrounded by a thousand of pink roses then I closed my eyes.
"Ken!"
Someone shouted my name suddenly from a distance followed by a high pitched noise. The voice sounded like a woman crying.
I opened my eyes and saw everything in black and white. I get up and realized that I was at the side of a river. I turned around and the roses are gone.
"Where are the flowers? Where? Where are they?!"
I ran as much as I can just to find where the flowers are. And with bad luck, I tripped over a tree root and fell down crying.
Total silence is all around me. All I can hear is the rustling of the waters from the river and my sobbing.
"Maybe those flowers are not everlasting. Just like me." I said to myself while I get up and started walking again.
Hours later, I found myself at the peak of a mountain. Looking over the city from afar with my grayscale vision.
This time, I already accepted that death is inevitable. "Thank you for the roses mom! I miss you so much," I shouted to the void as a tear dropped from my right eye.
Then I remembered that today is exactly a year after August 6, 1897,
the day I died, at least according to the gravestone in front of me.
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