Flowers

I see a young woman adorned in black part through the sea. In her hands she holds a crystal vase and an impressive bouquet of flowers. A type of rose, it's name escapes me but they are beautiful. I don't need to touch them to know that the white petals are softer than silk, nor do I need to smell them to know that they have the sweetest scent.

The woman pauses, seemingly having reached her destination. I eye her curiously; she looks mildly annoyed. A look I likely had shared myself when I had first seen her enter the room.

I told them no flowers. I didn't want to see so much as a single petal. I have always been patient about gardening, horticulture. I think it's in my genetics honestly. There was always something immensely enjoyable about spending my days in the garden no matter what the task at hand was. At first my luck was not good, and my thumb was certainly not green. After a few years of hard work and dedication - it all changed.

The garden was my life, the plants were my children. Early on I was against cutting my flowers to make centerpieces or decorations for friends and family; no matter the occasion. Pruning was needed and understandably so. To take a sharp blade to the delicate plants? Most would die within a day or two once they are severed from their stalk. It just seemed like such a waste. All that work only to have them die once they are more into an unnatural setting? Furthermore, florists are crooks. Well perhaps not all, but most. I'm agains the whole business as you can obviously tell, but I digress.

I would take tacky fake flowers if it meant leaving the real thing to live out the rest of its time in a greenhouse or a garden. Believe it or not, that was not the most popular opinion. However I was adamant that no matter what the occasion - flowers would not be coming into my house! Unless it was grown indoors, I wanted nothing to do with fancy vases or tasteful centrepieces.

I had always argued there were better things that people could spend their money on, as well. I'd gone years without receiving so much as a single stem.

My annoyance quickly turned to something else when I saw another young woman slowly take a place beside the first. She to had a vase in her hand, but this was filled with deep purple and white lilies. I had always told them no flowers! For so long they had listened, saved their money...obeyed my direct wishes.

Now though, now...The women held the vases because the table before them was full. Dozens of planters, vases, other vessels baring a variety of flowers that would make any botanical gardens envious. This was not the only table, no. There was one opposite it as well. Set up as though they were meant to be matching book ends.

I want to scream and demand the flowers be removed - taken to someone who would appreciate them. Oh, how I wanted to scream. In fact while one girl awkwardly tried to find a place for her roses on the table I opened my mouth but no sound came out!

I put my hand on her to stop her, but when I touched her shoulder she didn't do so much as blink. I was speaking, trying to. Trying to explain the flowers didn't belong there and that they were against my express wishes. She didn't listen though, acted as if I weren't there.

My eyes settled on the space between the two tables. A casket lay open, a cold corpse inside. The face was...extremely familiar to me; but somehow I didn't pay it much mind.

I'd told them no flowers. I'd told them over and over again.

No flowers, not even if I died.