Writing Club

Book Club - Tucker Beaumont - (word) protective, (setting) closet/storage room, (dialogue) "No. I'm as brave as soggy potato salad."

Showtime - I Can't Do It Alone - (word) Nifty

Liza's Loves - The Pharaoh - Write about making an important discovery

Other Challenges

Creativity Month - Florist!AU

Saint Patrick's Day - The three-leaved shamrock - (colour) green

After his grandmother passed away, Neville was at a loss. Part of him had been dependent on his grandmother, the part that was still a helpless child, and now that she was gone, that part of him had resurfaced.

At least there was the consolation that she had died content, with her remaining family around her. He remembered the serene expression on her face, one she rarely wore. Her last words had been spoken to him, feeble yet surprisingly sharp, "Find love, Neville."

And then her lungs promptly ceased her breathing, her eyes fluttering shut, and leaving Neville more confused than ever. "Find love" was a vague final wish and Neville still carried her words in his heart.

And he always would.

Growing flowers in her prized garden had been an everlasting passion of his grandmother's. Stargazer lilies had been her favorite, if the vases scattered around her house were any indication. Stargazer lilies, strangely yet befittingly, symbolized eternal youth.

So those were the flowers he planned to purchase for her funeral.

There was a new flower shop that had recently opened a couple blocks away from his flat. It was rumored to be the best in town, merely because of the owner's sunny disposition and cheerful mannerisms.

So on one chilly Friday morning, a couple of days before his grandmother's burial, Neville braved the pedestrian traffic of London and the biting autumn air to buy flowers from Abbott's Blossoms.

A medley of scents greeted him as he walked briskly through the front door, the bell jangling above his head. He couldn't pick out one smell from the other; all he could gather was that he was in the right place.

Flowers were everywhere. On the floor, in the windows, on racks, even on the ceiling, hanging over the edge of wicker baskets. How the owner managed to care for them all was beyond him, unless she had the energy of a rabbit.

A woman was stooped over a vase on the floor, her fingers painstakingly separating the thorny stems of red roses.

Neville stood over her for a few moments, observing her. She had ash blonde hair that was pinned up in a messy bun, light skin, and a skinny figure.

"Er," he said awkwardly, because the woman seemed clearly intent on sifting through the flowers, "hi?"

The woman whipped around and hissed. A pearl of blood formed on the tip of her index finger from a small cut, apparently from the thorns.

Neville chewed his lip nervously. "I'm so sorry!" he blurted out apologetically. "I didn't mean to startle you like that! Are you okay?"

She sucked her finger for a few seconds and Neville stared, mesmerized. She had soft jade-green eyes which peered up at him curiously.

"You're fine," she said, sliding her finger out of her mouth. "It's my fault for not being careful. I'm Hannah, by the way."

Neville's throat closed. She was pretty, really pretty. "Ne-Neville," he replied thickly.

Hannah stands. "Nice to meet you, Neville," she said, a warm smile on her round face. "I need to get a bandage for this, but I'll be back, yeah?"

Neville's tongue feels like it has been severed, like it's not there at all, so he nodded. Hannah swept her hair back over her shoulder and gave him another heart-stopping grin, and disappeared into the back storage room.

In her absence, he looked around the shop. There are roses, petunias, daisies, daffodils. Flowers of all shapes, sizes, colors, and species. She has decorated the shop quite tastefully, he noted. He has to compliment her on that.

A alarming, ear-piercing scream shattered the silence, causing Neville to jump and tense. His ears directed him towards the source of the scream, which came from the storage room.

"Hannah," he breathed. In desperation, he glanced around for a potential weapon to arm and defend himself with. Almost immediately, he spied a pair of hedge clippers.

In one nifty leap, he cleared the counter and tiptoed to the back, where there was door. The door was slightly cracked open, so he peeked inside and stifled a gasp.

A man had pinned Hannah to the wall with a knife digging into her neck, not enough to severely injure her but just enough to break skin. Blood leaked out in a thin line, and Neville felt a surge of something. Something he could not define, but it made him want to throttle this man, to make him pay for hurting her.

"Let her go!" he roared, bursting through the door with rage burning through him, weapon held aloft.

The man dropped his knife upon seeing the vicious look on his face, looking frightened. Neville stalked forward, his lips drawn in an ugly sneer.

"Go," he snarled, waving the clippers. "Go in that corner until the police come, before I do something I'll regret."

"Okay, okay, I'm going." The man held his hands up in surrender and slowly retreated to the corner and Hannah looked at Neville, shaken but relieved.

He approached Hannah, genuine concern painted on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked for the second time that day.

Hannah's face was unreadable, but it broke into a happy expression. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Neville stiffened at her initial touch, but relaxed in her arms. "No problem," he mumbled.

The next day, during the afternoon, Neville walked into the flower shop once more, intending to buy the flowers he had not gotten to purchase the day prior, only to be greeted by a shower of rose petals and Hannah's bubbly face. They had not seen each other since Hannah had been admitted to the hospital for an injury check.

"Hullo, Neville!" she said enthusiastically.

"What's all this?"

"To thank you, duh." Hannah beamed. "You were so courageous, confronting that man like that."

"No, not really," said Neville, embarrassed. To be honest, he had no idea what had overcome him in that moment. Protectiveness, perhaps, but it most certainly hadn't been courage. "I'm as brave as a soggy potato salad."

Hannah laughed. "Don't deny it, silly," she admonished. "You saved my life!"

Now that was something he couldn't refute. "I did," he said bashfully, his cheeks turning red. "I don't want you to die. I care about you."

Another brilliant smile lit up her face. "Likewise," she added, with a wink for good measure. And suddenly, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his flaming cheek.

Needless to say, he was struck speechless.

He did end up getting the flowers for his grandmother's funeral, but he also got something better: the satisfaction of fulfilling his grandmother's last request.

And when Hannah showed up to the interment looking absolutely beautiful, he could almost hear her smirk from eight feet under.

You found love. Thank you.

1143 words