Hello dears! This is wizbeth again. I thought I would start posting short stories to let my creativity out. These first go on my tumblr and you can ask me to write you a story there, though I don't mind the pm message here. I just know how to use tumblr better. This was written for lumariafloris, an Rping blog.
"Marluxia How do you get your garden to grow?"
Marluxia placed his book down on the side table closest to him. Larxene was the new kid on the block. She was full of questions (And demands) But this was the first time she had asked about his flowers. In fact this was the first time anyone had taken an interest in the flowers that decorated certain parts of the castle. Most had assumed dusk had taken them from unsuspecting couples or from the bedsides of hospitals. Both were incorrect of course, he had in fact grown all the flowers, arranged all the pieces, and set them himself. Still no one had given it a second thought until Larxene had opened her mouth. His eyes wondered over to the young woman in question. She was running her finger alone a delicate lily pedal.
"You know I remember asking someone else the same question."
"Nana how come you're flowers grow so big?"
Lumaria's Grandmother or nana was known for her spectacular flower displays. People from all around this world would ask her to make arrangements for their formal occasions, weddings, or for a sick family member. A lot of people paid top dollar for the bouquets; So much even it had made her uncomfortable to accept it. There was an upside to this; she could use the extra money to cover for people who couldn't afford to pay.
She was kind like that. But she was growing too old; her hands would soon become so ridden with arthritis that tending even the smallest pansy would be impossible. Now she had hoped to pass the business onto her daughter, but she had noticed over the years that her daughter had a black thumb. When her daughter announced she was going to have a baby she was hopefully again. Maybe she would have a granddaughter with a green thumb. That wasn't the case when Lumaria was born. He was a boy; Nana had assumed that he wouldn't want anything to do with plants with the exception of trampling over them.
The little boy had surprised her though. He detested the thought of even hurting a plant. Her daughter had once complained that "Lumaria got sent to the principal's office for giving a boy a bloody nose today. His excuse was he had to protect the Daisies! That's so ridiculous!"
Nana of course didn't see a problem with it. Lumaria's small hand took hers.
"Nana is your brain wondering?"
"You are so right. Silly me!"
He giggles a bit then begins to stroke one of the rose leaves.
"My flowers grow so because I talk to them dear."
His small eyes widen. "That works?"
"Well I don't just talk to them. I have to speak to the goddesses too."
"The goddesses?"
She taps his nose. "Yes my dear. In this world there are special beings who watch over everything from flowers, to dogs and to little boys like you. If you talk nicely to your flowers and care for them every day, the goddesses will notice that and help you. Now let's go inside, it's time for dinner."
After dinner Nana joins her daughter in front of the kitchen window. Lumaria was looming over a recently planted rose bush, talking very loudly to it.
"I swear mother you are filling that boy's head with nonsense."
Nana watches her daughter stalk off. She turns her attention back to her grandson, a hand over her heart. His mother may not understand this but he had a gift. One she hoped he hoped he would use for the rest of his life. Lumaria's grandmother died a few days later of a heart attack, leaving him with emptiness in his chest.
The sharp point of a boot pressed into the side of his cheek and gives him a good shake.
"Hey quit wondering off into space!"
He moves her foot off with one of his fingers.
"I speak to my flowers. In the hope that someone will listen to me and help me out."
Larxene wasn't sure how to respond to him. Any normal person would say that his response would be one of an old fool. Except to her at least, for some reason the way Marluxia had said it made perfect sense. She decides not to respond. Her long fingers pluck the Lily from the vase and inhale its sweet smell.
