Flowerpot

Flowerpot (WIPPY)

A flower cannot bloom without the care of its planter. It is delicate, requiring sun, water, and soft touches of love to grow. It asks much without the ability to speak, it is a gift due to it’s beauty, yet a burden to those who care for it. From one bloom to the next, there is both fragility and strength. It’s resilience is quiet, but it exists in each petal in its determination to reach toward the sun.

No matter how tenderly it is cared for, the rose will, inevitably, cease to bloom. What then can I do to save it from this unavoidable fate? How can I preserve something so fragile, so fleeting in its temporal beauty?

Perhaps the question isn’t how to stop the withering, but how to embrace each fleeting moment with open arms. Each bloom, each breath, each fleeting hour brings us closer to the day when the petals will fall. And when that day comes, will the memory of its grace be enough to keep it alive in my heart? Can the love I’ve poured into it sustain what time inevitably seeks to take away?

My name is Colem, a secret agent of the Atlas Theocracy, sworn to the silent shadows under the direct command of Captain William, of the Orders of the Dark Heralds. My mission has led me to Deveran, a high-class residential enclave where royal family of Avias resides. Avius, the head of this powerful family, lives together with his two daughters and a wife whose identity remains unknown—kept secret even from the eyes of our organization.

Baccara, the younger daughter, is the next candidate to inherit the family’s legacy. However, it is the older daughter who haunts the corridors of this investigation—she has gone missing, a mystery that seeps through the cracks of their perfect facade.

The Pope himself ordered us directly to investigate such an anomaly, but he hasn’t revealed anything other than his expectations. The motives of the high and mighty are not to be questioned; I am only here to uncover the truths that others prefer to leave buried.

The moment I stepped foot in Deveran is when I began to suspect this mission wasn’t all that it appeared to be. The pope’s orders were clear, but when the Dark Heralds are involved, one could almost be certain there was more hidden beneath the surface. Politics, like rot, tended to fester even in the quietest of places.

After years of difficult investigations and countless dead ends, I finally came across her. She was deep in the woods, near a tranquil lake at the forest’s edge. There, she sang softly, dancing along with the air around the lake. Frogs croaked in harmony with her melody, while foxes sat quietly in reverence, and birds perched nearby in silent wonder, all captivated by her enchanting presence.

She was dressed in pure white, contrasting against the vibrant red roses surrounding her, like a single white rose blooming among a sea of crimson. There was something unnerving about her presence here in this isolated and abandoned place. Yet, I sensed something more—a tension I could hardly define. She possessed an ethereal quality, as if she belonged to the very fabric of the forest, where every creature accepted her for who she was, woven into the tapestry of nature itself.

I stood there, hidden among the shadows, watching as if I were one of them. But the moment I stepped from the cover of the trees, the animals scattered, and she, too, fell silent. Her dance stilled, her song fading like a dream slipping away at dawn.

She looked at me seriously. “Who are you?”

I avoided her question. “What are you doing in a dangerous place like this?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “You haven’t answered me,” she replied coolly.

“I’m a gatherer in these parts. They call me Colem,” I said.

She glanced at the sword at my waist. “A gatherer who carries a sword?”

“Protection. There are monsters around here,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.

She wasn’t convinced. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scrutinized me further. “What’s with the outfit? Gatherers don’t wear those.”

I raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement breaking through. “Can’t a gatherer wear whatever they want?”

“No,” she replied flatly.

A silence, thick with suspicion, settled between us. Her blunt answer made me chuckle—short and genuine. She, too, realized the absurdity and laughed, soft but bright, the sound carrying on the forest breeze.

In that moment, suspicion and caution faded, leaving only the echo of our laughter among the trees. With a smile, she pointed at me. “My name’s Vendela. You better remember that.”

We smiled together, a warmth passing between us.

“Do you live here alone?” I asked, curiosity creeping into my voice.

“The forest is with me,” she replied, spreading her arms to encompass the trees that surrounded us.

“Was your dance for them?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered simply.

“Why were you dancing for them?”

“Because my end is near.” Her words floated gently through the air, like a soft breeze, carrying a weight of meaning I could barely begin to grasp.

I paused, studying her eyes, bright and sparkling, yet concealing what she truly felt.

“This is my last wish,” she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. There was an air of inevitability in her voice. “To be reunited with what I love most. This forest gave me everything—hope, reason, love. It has been my sanctuary since the day I was born. And now, it will be my place of rest.”

Something stirred deep within me - a strange sympathy. Beyond her radiant smile I felt a quiet resignation to a fate that she knew was coming. She was like a flower in its final bloom, beautiful yet fleeting, already beginning to wither. I wanted to protect her, to take her away from whatever end awaited. But how could I prevent those petals from falling?

Then she looked at me, her eyes glistening with an intensity that felt both alive and haunting. “Can you do me a favor?”

I nodded.

“Will you write a story about me?” she asked, her voice bright with hope.

Caught between the light in her request and the weight of an unspoken truth, I replied, “That’s a strange thing to ask a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger, you know. You found me” Her smile was genuine, and her eyes held mine with an intensity that felt as if they could see right through me.

And as I stood there, captivated by the unbound spirit shining through her, I felt enchanted. She was right—I had found her.

“You seem at peace with all of this,” I said laced with confusion

Her smile once-bright smile faded, replaced by a quiet, desperate resolve. “I’m trying to savor all of it,” she said in a strained whisper, “as though that’s all I have left.”

As darkness descended over the woods, we said our goodbyes, each of us clinging to the hope of seeing each other again soon. I silently wished she would remain the same bright soul I had come to know.

When the sun slipped beneath the horizon, I found my way back to the spot where I had first met her. There was Vendela, waiting with that same radiant smile, her presence lighting up the fading dusk.

“Welcome back, Colem!” she chimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Today, I want to show you something special.”

We wandered deeper into the woods, where the trees seemed to whisper secrets only she could hear. She led me to a grove filled with flowers, and it felt as though I had stepped into a painting.

“Each flower has its own story,” she said, kneeling to touch the white rose that sprouted among the red ones. “Just like us.”

I smiled, intrigued by her enthusiasm. “A white rose among the red roses?”

“Yes” she replied, gazing at the white rose as if she could relate to it. “This white rose sprouted among the red roses, and despite that, it still thrived like everyone else.”

Vendela’s laughter was like a ray of sunshine, breaking through the clouds of my gloom. As we talked and shared stories together, I found myself forgetting the weight of my mission.

On the second day, I discovered her sitting by the lake, her reflection shimmering in the water.

“Are you always this peaceful?” I asked, approaching her cautiously.

She looked up, tilting her head, her smile softening. “I’ve learned to embrace the things I cannot change.”

As we walked through the forest, she shared stories of her childhood—how she used to explore the woods with her family and how she imagined a big monster appearing before them. She would protect her sister if one ever showed up. She giggled sweetly as she recounted their adventures, reliving the joy of the memories they had created together.

“I long for those days,” she said, reminiscing.

Despite the warmth in her words, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slightly amiss. I noticed that her skin was paler than it had been yesterday, yet she seemed completely unaffected by it.

As the third day unfolded, I could feel the bond that had formed between us, sharing laughs and secrets as we wandered through the forest. However, while we enjoyed our time together, my heart sank as I noticed her skin growing even paler and the signs of fatigue showing in her movements. Yet she still wore that same radiant smile.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked with concern

She looked at me, and I noticed that her eyes no longer had the same sparkle they once did. “I’m perfectly fine, Colem. Just a little tired from all the fun we’ve been having.”

As we walked back to the lake, I saw her hand tremble slightly as she picked a flower. Her breathing hitched just noticeably. Still, she carried on, unfazed by the changes.

“Let’smake the most of our time together,” she said, sitting down on the ground with amongst the flowers.

Those words… It felt like I was being pressed down to the ground. Knowing she was going to pass away soon felt like chasing her into a void, as she faded away faster than I could run toward her.

I lay down on the floor next to her, savoring our time together filled with laughter, tinged by a gloom of reality—a reality we were both hesitant to acknowledge. I wanted to protect her, to take her away from whatever end awaited. Could I prevent the petals from falling?

My curiosity couldn’t be held back any longer, so I bravely asked, “Are you truly okay?”

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of defiance and sadness. “Would I be lying if I said I am okay?”

“Yes,” I replied, desperately searching for an answer.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again as she admitted, “I am cursed.”

She turned her back to me, and I saw it. Her skin was no longer pale; it was turning a sickly white, like a slow, creeping frost spreading across her back.

“It started with my hair,” she said, running a hand through her now-white strands. “Then my legs, and now my back. Soon, I’ll be as white as this rose.” She picked up a white rose, its petals as colorless as her skin.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I could only watch, feeling helpless as if she were slowly fading away, clinging to a desperate hope that there was some way to save her.

I held her close, fully aware that I was powerless to stop this. But deep inside, a part of me still longed to take her pain away, to shield her from the darkness consuming her. Her quiet sobs echoed in my ears, each one tearing at my heart.

As we made our way back to the lake, our smiles had vanished, replaced by a shared, silent fear. Suddenly, a plume of smoke rose from the east. I recognized the signal—it was the Order of the Dark Heralds. I glanced at Vendela, and a rush of fear coursed through me, not for myself, but for her.

I grabbed her hands urgently. “We need to leave. Now!”

She looked at me, confused, but before she could respond, they had already surrounded us. Panic surged. “Run!” I urged, gesturing toward the dense trees.

She hesitated, worried for my safety. I smiled, signaling that everything would be okay. She turned and fled. I drew my sword, ready to face the agents of the Dark Heralds.

“Look who’s gone soft!” one of them mocked as they unsheathed their swords.

With adrenaline pumping, I clashed my blade against theirs. The clang of metal echoed as I fought them off one by one. Vendela’s laughter played in my mind, strengthening my resolve. I couldn’t let them take her away from me.

In a flurry of movement, the men I fought suddenly retreated. A crimson plume of smoke rose in the south—a signal to “retreat.” It came from the direction Vendela had fled. I followed it, and with each step, memories flooded back—the laughter we’d shared, the stories, and the moments of pure joy that had filled our time together. The signal led me back to the lake—the very place where we’d shared our first laughter, our first story.

As I reached the lake, two bodies lay sprawled on the ground—agents of the Dark Heralds, though there were no visible wounds. Their cause of death didn’t matter to me; I was focused solely on finding Vendela.

“Please be alive,” I thought desperately as my eyes landed on her. She was in the very spot where she once sang and danced, surrounded by the forest and animals, all in harmony with her melody. But now, she stood atop a stone, bathed in sunlight, her ethereal presence overshadowed by a haunting stillness. Her face was twisted in pain; her white clothes had become stained with blood.

“Vendela!” I called as I rushed to her side.

As I reached her, she swayed, her knees weakening. I caught her in my arms just before she could fall.

“Colem,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “I’m sorry…”

Her eyes, once bright and full of life, now held a chilling stillness. “I’m at peace with this… I always have been.” Her voice was fragile, her smile brittle yet beautiful. “You found me… and that’s enough.” Her touch, cold and ethereal, brushed against my cheek.

My voice trembling as I said, “I can’t lose you. Not now, not after everything.”

She smiled softly, continuing to caress my cheek with her icy hand. “Live, Colem. Remember the memories we shared. Every moment… all of it.” Her touch, once a source of warmth and comfort, now felt weak and cold, like a fading dream.

She met my gaze, her eyes holding a desperate plea. “Don’t forget to write the story about me… That’s my one request…”

Those were her last words before her eyes fluttered shut, a single tear slipping down her cheek. I held her close, wishing for a miracle, yet painfully aware that she had already embraced her fate.

I held her close, the warmth of her body slowly faded. The forest seemed to mourn with me, as if her passing had reached every creature around us. Frogs croaked a gentle lullaby, foxes whimpered in silence, and a deer stood motionless, its gaze fixed on a single white rose lying among the red blooms. Even the butterflies circled us, as if paying tribute to the spirit that had taken flight.

A year has passed, and my act of betrayal has cast its shadow across my homeland. I am depicted as the enemy of my country for neglecting my duties, branded a traitor for choosing a path for the woman I loved. I regret none of it. If there is anything I regret, it is that I could not save her… Vendela.

Before I met her, life had been nothing but a rigid march of duty and obedience. My world was gray—filled only with orders and expectations—a world where love was a weakness, a distraction. Never did I expect my heart to soften for anyone. But Vendela she was a burst of color, her sweet laughter a reminder that there was more to life than just following orders. She showed me a new world, the power of kindness, and the joy in a simple smile.

Every day since her passing has been filled with memories of her sweet laughter, the warmth of her hands, and her radiant smile replaying in my mind. I am left with nothing but these memories. But I am not alone; I carry her love and her spirit—a light that shines brighter than any condemnation. It stands as a testament to a love that defied everything, a love that shaped me into who I am now.

I walk towards her grave one final time, ready to say my final goodbye, I hold a white rose in my hand. Once a symbol of Vendela’s very being, the white rose is now a memory of a beautiful woman in a white dress. I place the rose and the book titled “Flowerpot” atop her stone. “Goodbye, Vendela,” I whisper, my voice laden with emotion. “I’ll never forget the love, hope, and joy we shared.”

FIN