Daffodils

A Story by heichan

Short story - prose response to poem Daffodils by Wordsworth

It was a warm autumn day when she was admitted to this hospital- the leaves had shed their pale greens to passionate reds. Her eyes, a lively green with a fiery spark of energy, which complimented her, sun-streaked hair and tanned taut skin.

Now the leaves have long withered and left the bared trees alone and restless, she lies weak, isolated in her sterile bed her sparkle dimmed and her skin now pales the walls surrounding her.

She always loved to talk about this guy, his dreams of being a musician, how he’s overseas participating in some prestigious international music competition unaware of her miserable state as she wished him to be completely focused and achieve his dreams.

After the usual tests on her I noted how skinny she was compared to before; she was like a snowflake, fragile, about to fade away at any second- not a good sign, my thoughts were disrupted by a question.

“Do you know what daffodils mean in flower language?”

“Uhm… not really no.” I answer a little flustered by the unexpected question.

“Hope.. As well as unrequited love” she replies with the whisper of a smile “He told me”

Figures- even in her frail condition she still talks about love.

As I turn to leave she stops me, eyes trembling, afraid, desperate to share her spark before it dwindles completely.

“Will… you listen?”

I nod silently and went to sit beside her.

“It was a scorching summer day when I arrived to the countryside; picturesque it may have been the sheer vastness of this almost untouched landscape only deepened the lonely emptiness inside me. ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud’ so different from the others my position so high I could have touched the sky yet equally so low hiding myself in the suffocating earth.

As I wandered I finally found myself in a cascade of golden daffodils swaying with the breeze with each sway ebbing away my negative contemplations like waves slowly washing over the sand. As I soaked in the dazzling golden landscape my ears picked up a delicate yet euphoric melody. I followed the music curious to see what the creator of such enrapturing sounds.

He was a striking young man with caramel bronzed skin that seemed to suit his simple whitewashed shirt and jeans, hair full of chestnut curls and youthful mildew eyes. His long slender fingers were playing a beautiful violin.

We talked till we laughed and we laughed till we cried. I requested shyly another of his wondrous melodies, he agreed on the condition that I were able dance to his harmony.

Hesitant at first as I began but soon the music washed over me his music coursing through my veins urging me to dance faster, more intensely; he must have felt it too for as soon as I began to quicken my pace so did he. Each of us urged by the other in scorching sun; sweat rolled down our bodies as we danced and played with the daffodils that were tossing their heads along our spritely dance.

You know…”

Her reminiscing was brought to a halt by a series of sharp painful gasps in which I ordered her to lie down and rest immediately but she was intent on finishing her story.

“…I believe paradise can only be unlocked once you find another, but I let him slip away back into the ocean of daffodils as I returned to my small pond.”

Tears filled her eyes as the rasping coughing once again filled the air.

A few minutes after she started convulsing, gasping, fighting her own body; I tried to soothe her but to no avail.

Finally after two long hours her body finally gave up and she stopped fighting.

Suddenly a young man burst through the door with ruffled chestnut curls and youthful mildew eyes. As he saw the sight before him he fell to his knees sobbing beside her.

In one hand he held a gold trophy and in the other a single golden daffodil - the flower of unrequited love.