• Rosalyn Briar

Wildflower Girl


In the parched brown grass dusted with snow, she rested her head. This was as far as she could go.

Her trembling, pink fingers curled around her shoulders, and her once-vibrant blue eyes closed a final time.


When the rains of spring poured from the sky, she melted with every drop, becoming one with the earth and feeding new life beneath the surface.


The warm sunshine bleached her bones into a brilliant and gleaming white.


Sprouts, shoots, and buds popped up all around into a carpet of green. Vines crawled and tangled through her ribs.


Then the blooms, oh the blooms. Violets, buttercups, daisies, bluestars, lilies, asters, goldenrods, and bloodroots danced in the breeze, performing their brilliant display.


On a family hike through the wilderness, a little girl spotted the patch of flowers with wide, curious eyes. Grinning, she raced to pluck herself a bouquet. 


She didn’t understand the horror on mommy and daddy's faces as they made her quickly back away or why her mommy wept that night watching the news about a cabin in the woods.


She placed her flowers in a cup of water on her nightstand.


They made her happy.



 
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