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self biased
24-03-2004, 04:44:24
There was a noise along the path. Boots scraped against gravel and echoed throughout the glade. Autumn had taken its toll on the trees, and they glinted with a silvery sheen as frost reflected the early evening light. Smells of death hung in the air, which mixed with the stink of freshly tilled earth. Mist wove between the trees purposefully, as if directing a hapless traveler to her destination.

A silence weighed on the forest, punctured briefly by the occasional bark of wild dogs. But even then their sounds were muted, far away, and were difficult to distinguish from a trick of the mind. The gravel path lead past a peculiar circle of oak trees, which radiated an ancientness that was almost palpable. Last season’s spider webs walled off much of the circle, and allowed naught but a single beam of sapphire light to exit the clearing.

In the center of the clearing grew a flower much like an iris, but made of a crystalline substance. Within it ruby veins and stamen were visible. The flower glowed softly in the dimming light, shed a pale blue from a distance, and radiated comfortable warmth in the chilling autumn night. The light mottled itself with a violet hue as the flower dreamed.

“I wish someone would find me,” the flower thought as it dreamed.

A figure happened into the forest not long before this. She was of shorter stature than most, but filled the air with a softness that was unmistakably hers. Her hair was a brackish dark brown that was cropped at about chin length. A frost blue pair of eyes peered out from underneath her locks, and scanned the area nervously. She was terrified of wandering dogs for some reason, and the muted barking had frightened her. The girl pulled her long black coat in, and expelled a cloud of breath

She continued fretfully down the path. The iris manifested its eyes and stretched as it woke from its slumber, and the light it cast brightened in the twilight. It could feel the girl’s presence nearing, and drew itself beneath the soil and fallen leaves. It hoped that she would come to see it, but was doubtful that she was as extraordinary as it was, and wondered why it had bothered to hope in the first place, because every other time its hope was in vain. It watched her with its eyes floating a few feet over the aperture in the webs.

While the iris had seemingly vanished, its glow still remained, and only a tight beam was allowed to escape from the clearing. The sounds of footsteps approached, and stopped on the path, where the light shone from the webbed oak circle. The girl turned to face the light, hyperventilating, parted the webs, and stepped into the clearing.

The light pulsated singularly as the girl entered the sacred circle and met the iris’ eyes, which blinked once, and then vanished. “She’s here,” thought the flower. It pushed up emerald leaves and stems from the murky forest floor to greet her. Startled, the girl stumbled over the roots of an oak tree, and fell backwards, gazing at the unfolding flower.

The iris bloomed in full view of the girl, daring to hope that she wouldn’t run away like the others. It extended its leaves and petals with the gentle sigh of someone who has found comfort in the arms of an old and familiar lover, and basked in the phosphorescent light, beaming with pride in front of the human that it knew could see it. The girl shied away from the flower. Sensing her doubt, the iris began to withdraw itself from sight, disappointed. The girl shut her eyes tightly and argued with some voice inside her mind’s eye.

“No!” she shouted, and clawed at the earth where the flower had been. “No!” she screamed, her voice distorting, the sound she made was too loud for her vocal chords to sustain. The eyes reappeared, and looked down at the girl who sat only a few feet from the roots of the flower, and as the sweat beaded upon her brow, it dispelled the doubt she had. The flower then peered out of its hiding place, surprised to see the girl still sitting there, waiting for it.

The iris sprang up in its full resplendence, emitting a hum that resonated throughout the forest, as the oak trees vibrated sympathetically. It bloomed in its full splendor: dark blue petals and blood red veins, glowing with a light of absolute purity. The flower offered itself to the astonished onlooker. But did she dare touch it?

The girl extended a dirty hand and almost caressed the flower. The iris wanted to travel, it wanted to be picked, and it wanted to become a part of the world. But could it trust this girl to guide it along its journey, and did she even realize what awaited them in the end? The iris bristled and fidgeted under the almost touch of the girl’s fingertips. It pleaded silently with her to share herself with its journey, as the last rays of the setting sun filtered through the forest, leaving the girl and the flower, alone with their destiny.


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i wrote this for a friend of mine for her birthday. i took something that she wrote and flipped around the perspective from the girl to that of the flower. she was immensely thrilled with it, and i was wondering what y'all thought.