Purple Carnation: capriciousness
Pink Rose: Dark pink roses are symbolic of gratitude and appreciation, and are a traditional way to say thanks. Light pink roses are associated with gentleness and admiration
Blue Hydrangea: vanity and boastfulness (perhaps reflecting its abundance of petals and lavish, rounded shape)
Dragon's Blood Flower: inner power, increased potency
He was like a wilting flower. Slowly fading away into the background, because no one cares about the wilting flowers, only the pretty ones, the young ones. No one cares about a dying flower. The poor flower stuck in the back hidden away by much healthier ones.
No sun.
No one.
Nothing.
Just sitting in the back hoping stay elusive, no one to cut him down. But screaming as no one notices him, screaming so loud, screaming so high. But, no one sees, no one sees him until he's nothing but half a flower, bent at the stem. His last hope is that no one notices, no one comes to replace him with a prettier, and much more preferred, flower. Replacing a dying Dragon's Blood with a sweet white rose.
The bleeding of the heart.
The bleeding of the emotions.
The bleeding of the soul.
The bleeding of the Dragon's Blood, the last Dragon's Blood.
The lack of sun, water, and love, makes the flower wilt away. Makes any flower die. Makes his very presence silently disappear. Dying…
Second,
By,
Second.
The Dragon's Blood was always dying, slowly, but fate was cruel. The little flower made friends, experienced happiness. The Pink Rose, the Blue Hydrangea, and the Purple Carnation. The dying flower made friends with others to. But those moments didn't last.
As the Hydrangea was taken, taken away, and he could only watch as his hope was being shattered. Even if it was wrong, even if it was frowned upon, he loved that Blue Hydrangea. But what could a dying flower do?
Nothing.
He just stayed, watched each passing day. His presence slowly slipping, slowly disappearing. His death was approaching faster, the clock ticked faster for death wanted a taste of Dragon's Blood.
The next day the Pink Rose was taken, the day after that day the Purple Carnation was taken. Day by day some flowers died, while others were whisked away.
Soon all that was left was the dead, and the dying.
He watched from his place as all the healthy flowers were dug out and put into pots, taken inside. He could only watch from a distance as they lived on. Time waited for no one.
Slowly the flower's limited strength- the strength he gained from being cared for, from others caring about him- diminished.
All the pretty little flowers watched with sad eyes, watching the little flower die. Passed the glass screen, passed the porch, no longer hidden. In the back of the garden, surrounded by old flowers, dead flowers. They watched as his last petal, tear, fall. Before...before nothing. The bend of his stem, the bend of his back. The loneliness, the rejection, suffocating him. As his corpse, falls, a large soundless thud as the stem lays on the floor. Day by day, a few flowers glance out and see the stem. The browning stem, the decomposing stem. Until all there was left was the memory. The memory of a sad little flower.
But life moves on and waits for no one, so as a present for her beloved, Life sends a gift. She sends a gift to Death, a bouquet with a fully bloomed Dragon's Blood in the middle. And Death, Death keeps the gift, keeps the gift forever. Never sending anything back to Life, but a small whispered wind of a thanks, a small blanket of snow.
And as the young flower, the young man, leaves the world, life goes on.
And you know why?
Because no one cares about a wilting flower.
This was my very first one-shot, I hope you enjoyed!
Please review!
Sorry about he length, I wanted to make it longer, but it just felt right with this length!