A Story by Vian

I would help my flower grow.

I stroked her matted and dirt blond hair as though it were the most delicate spun gold. My Daisy let out a small whimper and my heart lurched when it escalated to a vulnerable moan. While willing myself not to let any tears through, I choked out a stilted tune to soothe her. When her face smoothed I let the tears flow freely, my breath hitching as I tried to hide my sobs in from the open, silent night.

              My child was hurting. My heart ached to somehow reach out and wipe the hurt in her heart away as I did the tears on her gaunt cheeks. She was my precious baby- She didn't know. I sighed despondently and rose from my post. The moon was peaking and I had to meet the next client.

              I traversed the familiar path down to the small shack over the hill. The broken down building was very much like the one I shared with my daughter and all the other women who still felt the need to live for some reason or another. Some moaned about some long past lover that was surely searching for them and others claimed-­

              My thoughts halted abruptly as he, my client, stumbled over to me. I analyzed the tall, sneering man. He must be one of the lower nobles. The job might not be as bad as the rest, seeing as he wasn't as desperately hideous as some of the other men. Nobles had an appearance to keep after all.

              I allowed him to lead me into the shack and push me onto the thoroughly used not-­quite­-bed. He sloppily moved his drunken lips over mine and groped below my tattered skirt. I did not move save for as he directed. I shed no tears for myself as I left them, as well as my pride, with my daughter. I had only the last shreds of dignity left. You could not dirty that which was so unbearably filthy as it was. I lost everything with the conception of Daisy. It was a vile intrusion of my body. So why, then, wasn't she an equally vile stain on my degrading existence, I wondered to myself while attempting to ignore the pain. 

              The client had long past gone, leaving enough money to buy two meals for my Daisy. I continued to ponder my... Offspring. For, surely, I could not love a product of pain. It was she who brought me to this place. Daisy was hungry, Daisy was cold, everything revolved around her. Though I scantily heard her voice plead me. Unasked I would hurry to her side and give my life in a heart beat.

              She was a flower growing in the midst of agony. The world was falling apart into shambles around her and she still grew. A mocking beauty in the cold, desolate world. Didn't it know that there was nothing here? No sunlight to tenderly coax flowers out of their seeds. No loving showers would stroke their soft petals. The sun only burned and the summer storms stayed far out of reach. If only my flower understood.

              She didn't need to know.

The world was too harsh and cold, my flower would not grow if not protected. I clutched the small tenuous rays of silver sunlight in my hands. Daisy's sunlight and warm rain. Carefully, I slid my dress over my head and passed the empurpling bruises. I hurried back to Daisy with anticipation. Imagining my wonder struck flower laughing and singing was enough to speed my progress considerably.

              When I'd returned, she was sitting and waiting for me. Her eyes lit up just at the sight of me and I felt wretched for even thinking my child was anything but a perfect miracle. At least in this agonizing world, I had my flower. I could return to her and allow her luminous smiles make up for those I’d lost. She belonged with me so I could be her loving sunlight and gentle storm. I would help my flower grow.

© 2014 Vian

Author's Note

I looked at this story and I realised that I'd changed fundamentally since then. After reading the old version, I laughed at myself. Right at that moment there was an overhaul. It just had to be rewritten. I kept the old version as a memento of my fourteen-year-old self but good writing takes precedence over sentimentality.

I wonder what the thoughts are?

My Review

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This was a wonderfully written story, with perfect flow. I love the imagery and the language and it all just read so smoothly, like wine. This is pretty damn good for being written early in highschool.

Posted 6 Years Ago


6 Years Ago

Haha, I wish this was original, straight-from-highschool writing but its been recently edited.
A beautiful and touching short story. This is by far your best piece. The writing is so polished and natural. I love the theme, to me it is that innocence in the presence of ugliness is still innocence. Great work

Posted 7 Years Ago


7 Years Ago

I wrote this piece for my first year of high school's English class. Honestly, I think it is very la.. read more
THis is kind of nice. Depressing but sweet.

Posted 7 Years Ago


7 Years Ago

Thank you for the response. I love to hear your feelings, thank you.

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3 Reviews
Added on December 31, 2013
Last Updated on June 1, 2014
Tags: Desperation, Flower, Mother, Love, Prostitution, Poor, Daisy



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