Flowers

The breeze swept through the field, rustling the grass. It was the month of May, when the flowers were in bloom. A myriad of colours burst onto the scene, displaying themselves for all to see. Jaenne sat down, soaking in the sight of the beautiful blooms. This was true beauty, Mother Nature at its finest. There were but a few fields left in the Wold. Modernization had crept over the land, sweeping away the fragile bits of greenery. Few cared enough to try and stop the monster. The Wold’s destruction was inevitable.

Jaenne let out a sigh. Such beauty would be destroyed by merciless hands. They who had been put in charge to improve the Wold, were now slowly ripping it to bits, replacing it with artificial beauty. Of course, it would be pretty, but it could never be compared to Nature’s work. Her soul cried for the flowers, those young, fragile things. Anger had once flamed in her breast, yet it now subsided, because, there was nothing that could stop the terror that would come. She lovingly caressed the nearest bud, the petals the shoots of the nearest one. It gave out a sweet scent, almost as if in response to her touch. Together with its brothers and sisters, the smell was rich, yet not overwhelming. It smelt of newness, of a lazy summer day. They did not know the devastation that would occur, had no thought of letting them go from its grasp. They continued their dance, swaying with their playmate, the wind. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

She had once though to keep a few, cultivate them at home to try and save them. Her intent was good, but she then realized, they would not have their original brilliance, their beauty marred by luxury in a lab environment. Here, out in the wild, only the fittest survived. The weaklings were left to fend for themselves. But in their entirety, they were still weak as a newborn babe from its mother’s womb. The monster of city expansion would come to gobble them up. It was better to let Fate have her own way. Besides, she would also be guilty of producing fakes. Artificiality did not appeal to her.

For now, the best thing she could do was to enjoy the sight, cherish the moment. She whipped out her camera. It was a modernity, but it had its uses. The images produced were only a glimmer of the real beauty, a scratch across the surface. But it would help to awaken foggy images when her mind was clouded. It would bring back happiness, joy but also suffering. Her children would appreciate these pictures, although they did not think much about nature’s creation.

As she sat, feasting her eyes on the glory of the blooms, she prayed silently. She hoped the leaders would come to their senses, to realize their mistakes, to try and change it all for the better. She prayed fervently that her own children, her grandchildren even, would love nature as she did, learning to revel in its glory. Her prayer done, she walked slowly back. She wiched she did not need to, wished she could spend her entire life in the field of flowers. But she had worldly chores to do, a family to feed. Her heart was heavy, her feet dragging. But she pushed herself back home. She would never, ever, forget that scene. The flowers would remain, etched in her memory, for all eternity.