This story is by Chiqu Doll and was part of our 2017 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
Never once did he know that flowers were beautiful things. What did it smell like? Maybe, it smelled well, if not why she loved those creatures so much. From the time he noticed it, all the flowers smelled like blood and all of them were blood-red color. Yellow, red or orange leaves and petals cover her up, they all wanted to hide her away from him.
– “Honey, if…there is…an afterlife, we…shouldn’t meet. I promise…you, I will never… never…!”
He knew so well how bad it felt waking up at night depressed and hopeless. Dark or light, day time or night time, it didn’t matter where he was, with whom and for what, he suffered the agony of remorse. His life was a curse by birth and it was turning into a hell on earth because of his stupidness. What a wretched fate it was and it served him right after all.
He reached out to grab a photo frame on a desk next to his bed. If anyone could see him right now, they would be wondering what wrong with him. There was a white dress woman in the picture but her eyes were closed and she was seriously injured. Not a nice picture, some kind of things people would put besides their beds.
– “Sugar, were you hurt? I tried to save you. I didn’t mean to let it happen that way, sorry, I’m so sorry.”
He rubbed his finger over the photo wish to wipe out the stain on her vermilion lips. The beauty was sinking deeply into the crimson leaf carpet, soaking with blood all over her chest. Leaves felled on her dress.
– “Did you know that white wasn’t matching you perfectly? Orange, rich orange like the chrysanthemum in your garden, they were what suit you best!”
He mumbles alone while gently touches the curve of her face. How would it feel if he could touch her in real? Would it be soft and sweet as it looks like? How would it feel if he could hold her into his chest? Would she be fit with him as he has always dreamed about? He has no idea and will never know.
– “You surely didn’t know that the entire flower in your house was not worth a glance when you were near. White wasn’t my favorite color any more from the day I saw you, sugar, sorry, I never told you that.”
For a man with a heart full of sin, he unwittingly desires for things on the opposite side. Something he desperately yearns for but can’t have. White? Why not? It is the most purity color. However, the curse color had been his nightmare from the time she bled to death in front of him. She was in white at that time and her dress slowly turned red because of blood.
Maybe, she could be saved if he did something. Sure, she needs not to be death, if only he could… if only he was willing to help.
– “You are the most stupid girl in the world, sugar! Foolish, utterly silly woman!”
If they didn’t meet, her whole life could have been different. She could be growing up and became a wonderful wife. Yes, someone’s wife. Not his! She would be a treasure of a wise man. A man who love her, protect her or even sacrifice his life for her. Not a dullard and coward she has fallen in love with. How could he? How could he let the only light in his godforsaken life fading away? For all the deceitful, mucky things happing in his life, she maybe the only reward god meant to him and what an ironical fate it is, he destroyed her himself.
– “Sugar, today is your birthday, could I give you a present? How about chrysanthemum? We have plenty of them. Remember? You planted it. They all are blooming now. ”
Fire is great. It has the color of her hair, rich orange like her dress, exactly the same as the one she wore the first day they met.
– “These flowers don’t have right to survive. If you are not, why should them?”
It starts raining but the rain isn’t enough to save their house from the fire he has planned to destroy this place for so long. The sight of the burning house is getting fuzzy and fading out. He switches on the engine and drives away. The humidity of rain or maybe the tears in his eyes make him seeing nothing. He increases the speed. His car’s headlamps can shine only bright a narrow path in this kind of weather. He just doesn’t care. Anyway, what else should he care now? Nothing.
Rain causes leaves falling off the trees then yellows almost the entire road. In his memory, his girl was always fond of enjoying rain sounds and the scent of it. She could spend hours sitting next to a window and watching rain or painting the scene of her garden. But he detests the existence of those things deeply into a core of his soul without a reason. Now he realizes that he hates everything that takes her interest away from him. He was jealous. Why didn’t he know it sooner or more exactly why didn’t he admit it to himself earlier that he loved her? He loved the girl suddenly crashing into his life and went away without hesitating, leaving him nothing but a hollow soul.
The car reaches a destination within an hour for the distance of three hours driving as his usual speed. Driving for hundreds of miles then parked in front of her former house and stayed there for hours have become his routine. Her room was on the second floor but she often felled asleep with the lights on, so he didn’t know if she went to bed or not.
He stares up at her room’s window through his wet and dim car door and yearns to witness her appearing there. Just a glance! A brief glimpse of her face is enough. It’s over midnight and the house is still bright as ever. He looks at her room’s balcony, seeing the lights flickering in the blurred curtain of rain and tears silently dripping onto his shirt. The hopeless in his grey eyes isn’t hard to realize, he totally gets mad tonight. They shouldn’t be like this, not that he is being here, raising his eyes searching for her between the rain and she was nowhere to be found.
She could have been extremely disappointed about him so that she put an end for both of them by her own way. Did she truly believe that he could go through with this? Somewhere in this universe, is she seeing him suffering now? Could there be a miracle to change the things one has made mistake? If yes, what is the price for it? If not, could he let it go? Letting go the memories of the girl in an orange dress with knitting brows raised up her head and angrily said:
– “Who are you? You are stepping on my flowers.”