荒野に咲く華

Marigolds of all colors and sizes, for the grief and despair he’d been caused. Pincushion flowers, as he’d lost everything he’d once held dear. A single black lily, to lay a curse upon—

The bell above the front door rang. Noe turned sharply on his heel, calling out a bright greeting. Enough of the gloom. His ultimate revenge had to be that he’d outlived them. That would need to be enough for him.

But the thoughts still gnawed at the back of his mind, even as he cheerfully took an order for a lovely bouquet for a sixtieth wedding anniversary—red roses, naturally, a couple petunias, some gardenias, a guzmania upon special request, though it might be hard to arrange—even as he helped someone pick the perfect flowers to apologize to their boss—purple hyacinths, in abundance, yellow poppies, as a quiet appeasement.

He wanted to hurt the people who’d hurt him. He’d stop at nothing to pay then back for what they’d done.

Not that he could, though. They were all long gone. He was safe. All that was left of them were in his thoughts, and if he focused on them, they’d continue to live on. 

And so they continued to live.

Red spider lilies, symbols of sad memories. Calendulas, full of despair.

Noe didn’t want to be haunted like this. He’d had plenty of time, plenty of distance, and yet so often, his thoughts circled back to the same point. It wasn’t right to dwell, surely, but after so long he wasn’t confident he could keep himself from it.

On the hardest days, flowers wilted under his touch. Even that comfort was taken from him. He didn’t open his shop. He spent the whole day in bed, trying to keep the thoughts from consuming him. The idea of working anyway often crossed his mind. He’d have to cut flowers, surely, and wouldn’t it be easy enough to not suppress the sympathetic pain for once? Then, perhaps, on those days he could feel something besides this hatred seething inside of him.

The idea of interacting with his customers was enough for him to remain out of the shop. They were all kind souls; they’d be concerned if Noe was anything less than his usual cheerful, sunny self. He couldn’t have anyone concerned. It’d be a burden to them.

Winter heather, as he was so very alone. Moonflowers, for the sins he silently accumulated time and time again. 

When would it end? When would the events of years past—long since ended, long since rectified—stop haunting him so? 

One of the worst days came. He knew why it was significant, of course. He hadn’t marked the date at the time, but every year Noe somehow subconsciously knew this marked the anniversary of the lowest day of his life. 

He decided to spend the day doing anything but what he usually did. He got out of bed, went through his morning routine, and put quite some effort into choosing an outfit to wear.

On his way out the door, he noticed a weed was growing in one of his flowerbeds. He plucked it from the ground carefully, willing it with all his might to not wither, to flourish as large and as beautifully as it could. It helped a little bit just to be able to put a fully-blooming flower into his hair even on the darkest day.

As he walked down the street, Noe’s thoughts began to overwhelm him. What was he doing out here? This was overwhelming. No matter how much he tried, it was probably obvious something about him today was off. He shouldn’t have left. What if someone he knew talked to him? Would they think his expressions, his enthusiasm, his voice were all forced? Would they find out that he wasn’t always the way he wanted people to believe he was? Would that trouble people to find out?

Noe’s thoughts began to spiral. So many years had passed since the day he’d finally left. Did this even really deserve to matter like this? Of course it did. It mattered because it had gotten so bad on that day…

They still had power over him, even now. He found it difficult to look in the windows of the stores he passed, for fear he’d see a ghost of the long-dead.

Perhaps it was time to give up. It was stressful being in public, even if so far he had been left alone with his thoughts in the sea of passerby. But wouldn’t that be a waste? He’d gone to all this effort to change the way today would go for him. He’d made a decision to change his life on this day many years before, and he’d commit to the one he had made today to do the same. Besides, a little fresh air had never hurt anyone.

Noe focused his energy solely on the flower in his hair, hardy and thriving despite his rapidly dropping mood. This was why wildflowers were lovely, he thought. They could survive under conditions where others would fail in an instant. What a determined little one this was. He closed his eyes in concentration, willing the bright yellow flower to bless him with the same magic he often passed on to his customers. It was so cheerful, so sunny, wouldn’t it be lovely if it passed the same traits onto him today? 

When Noe opened his eyes again, he noticed a small café across the street. Silently, he thanked the flower in his hair for the lovely idea. Surely the flower had helped. They’d always seemed to protect him like that. Eating would be a good first step towards making a real plan for thriving during such a dreadful day. Breakfast and a latte, he decided as he crossed the street, and then he could decide whether being haunted was truly enough to drive him back into bed for the day. He already had a feeling that wouldn’t happen. He was beginning to feel triumphant over his own dark places, just for today.

Noe took a deep breath, letting a small smile cross his face as he pulled open the door. He wouldn’t let the past get the better of him today.

A dandelion, a symbol of happiness. A dandelion, an oracle of love—