m a r i g o l d s - cruelty, grief, jealousy

She gardened for remembrance. Her garden, admired by passersby, was filled with a myriad of colors and different types of flowers. The few that visited her would grit their teeth and offer their fake interest as she sat in a rickety, old rocking chair and talked about her flowers. Her beauty had faded quickly with her age, though the bitterness of her youth had not.

Delicate pink and white rose bushes lined the back of her precious garden. They were for her Cedric, she would explain; those were always the first words to come out of her mouth.

All of her flowers were bright and healthy and gorgeous. You would pass her garden and stop, stunned in amazement, in the beauty of it. In the corner, barely noticeable, was a plant unlike all the others. It wasn't well-cared for or tall or beautiful; instead, it was wilting and edging it's way towards dying all-together. If it was pointed out, whether asked about or not, her smile would fade and she would whisper that it was time for them to leave.

And so they walk away in confusion, unable to hear her words.

"Those are my marigolds, for Harry Potter. After all, it's high time he gets what he deserves."


For Persephone's flower's Flower Challenge

disclaimer: if you recognize it, it's probably not mine.

word count: 215