The Silly Flower
Dec 27, 2012 // By:Jaye Suzette Dy // 6 comments
Much is seen of this flower. Her soft stem glides gracefully as it caresses its silhouette within the corners of the eating place. The scent of its perfume reminds customers of cinnamon on coffee puffed with creamy mixture of honey and ice cream. The red petals seem like linings on a cake for dessert that when matched with the food display, it commands taste and more sumptuous appetites ahead.
Everyone who passed by in the restaurant could not control themselves from admiring this flower. Tall ones would bow down to her beauty as they stoop to see her. Young children especially girls would stare at her for a long time.
One day, while couples take pictures, a millionaire bid her for a thousand.
“No, it can’t be bought,” the owner said. “It is my boyfriend’s gift before he died of heart stroke. It reminds me of him, his conceit that made me blinded of love.”
“I see but it does not deserve your time to have memories on such a vain useless guy,” the millionaire remarked. “I want it myself. I want to make it productive. Plant it on a garden and make millions of duplicates as it grows from seedlings to seedlings. This flower cannot stop only there and there as statue, or as a mannequin, unable, useless and too flattered for little things. It also needs to serve, to be able to move about and disperse, not conquer
eyesight but more than that – it has to produce!”
“Aha… I doubt that it could last days. It will not flourish as you dreamt it would be. This conceited flower will die a natural death just as my conceited boyfriend died so,” the owner of the flower whispered as a gossip. She was afraid the flower might hear her.
Now, the flower settled as display. At seminars, the flower was so happy to hear from people as they always spoke of her as the beautiful one and nobody ever broke that unbeatable image until a lovely butterfly raised her great wings to fly about and landed in the restaurant just beside her.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” The flower smiled flirtatiously.
“I was not staring at you, my dear,” Madame Butterfly said.
“I am a girl just like you but you can sip on me,” the flower commanded, “I am more beautiful than you. Can’t you see?”
The butterfly quivered. As a creature of the same gender and of strong beauty, it was not used to by this insult. But the arrogance of the flower proved its weakness so she, the butterfly rose its powerful wings to suck and sip on her, the flower and her nectar.
“I love it!” The flower announced conceitedly, “I love how you all bow down to my beauty.”
As she said so, the mighty wings of Madame Butterfly shooed the vase of the flower and broke it into pieces. Down fell the flower: wet, withered and fading. A fallen beauty, she died as everyone else does and never made history.
Author and Illustrator:
Jaye Suzette Dy is a mom and creative writer. She takes BS psychology in Xavier University Ateneo de Cagayan. Her fond for writing was set aside when she became busy with motherhood. Now, she works as a home-based content writer and illustrator which allow her to take care of her kids while working.