peduncle
noun
- a flower stalk, supporting either a cluster or a solitary flower.
- the stalk bearing the fruiting body in fungi.
- a stalklike structure composed of white matter, connecting various regions of the brain.
- an attachment process, as in the brachiopods.
***********************************
The flowers were watching him. Pete could tell they were. They grew on thick stalks, the bore an array of petals that he had never seen before. And those thick stalks bend and twisted as he moved, so the actual flowers followed him as he moved through the odd place. He had no idea how he had gotten there. One minute, he was tending to his garden, and then next he was amidst the odd flowers.
As he walked, he tried to classify as many of the plants as he could. Those looked like some kind of rose, while something like a tulip grew over that way. Small clusters of tiny white flower here, sprawling yellow petals the size of his hand there. And all of them followed his movement.
Suddenly, he saw a different kind of motion. In front of him, dozens of flowers were moving in unnatural ways. They moved together, bending and twisting around each other, guided by some unseen force. And they were taking a shape that Pete recognized. They were forming a woman. A human, or at least humanoid, woman.
Her skin was made of white petals, while her dress was made of all the other colors present. Her hair was stems and leaves, twining into a neat braid. Her eyes though, her eyes were something different. They were deep pools of every color of the rainbow, and then some. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“Hello, Peter.” She said in a light, airy voice. She moved towards him a few steps, releasing the scent of every flower that made up her body.
“Wh-who are you?” He asked. “How do you know me?”
“I am Flower.” She said with a slight bow of her head. “I am the spirit, the soul, of every flower in the world. I am them, and they are me. And I know you through those you tend.”
He did not understand, not really. But it seemed rude to press for more, so he continued to ask. “And, and where am I?”
“This is my home. The place where all flowers originate. It is my garden, in a way. Do you like it?”
“It’s very nice. Although I wish the flowers weren’t looking at me.”
She smiled and laughed gently. “I apologize. We have never had a human here before, so they are curious. I will ask them to not stare so much, if it will help.”
“It might. And why am I here?”
“Because I, we, have need of you. My garden is threatened like never before, and I believe you can save us.”
“M-me? But I’m just a gardener. And not even a very good one. There’s lots of people better than me out there.”
“Indeed. But none like you. You, more than any other human, understand flowers. You know when to cut, and when to mend. When we need to return to the ground, and when we need to be removed. You know us, our ways, our purpose. No other human has your understanding. And it is that understanding that we need. It that understanding that will safe us, save all flowers everywhere. Will you do so?” She asked while extending her hand to him.
“I…I don’t…” He looked around. The flowers quickly turned away from him as he did. But he could feel their gazes, even though none had eyes. And there was something else. An eagerness, a kind of yearning and hopefulness to them. He had no idea why he could tell that, but it was there. He took a deep breath, breathing in the myriad of scents in the air. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do what I can.”
He took Flower’s offered hand, and she began leading him through the garden, to whatever trouble they were having.
****************************
Not really sure what to say right now, so I'll just wish all you fine people a wonderful day.
No comments:
Post a Comment