Ficlet - Princess Flower's
Title: Princess Flower's
Author: ZerimarClassics
Characters: Crystal (this journal), Margery militarymomlove, Margery's Mother, Margery's Father
Notes: Rated R; for suicide. Ye be warned, yo. Remember its aaaalll fake. Comments welcome. Yes. I like my fragment sentences.
Dandelions. Crystal knew what they were called now that she was older. She didn’t when she was younger. In fact, she called them something completely different and it was all because of a man who was so silent his face had almost completely gone from Crystal’s memory.
Old. With graying hair, and a gentle face with soft wrinkles in it. Lines on his face that framed the perfect smile that still filled Crystal with a thought, so simple and yet so comforting; maybe she wasn’t so ugly. Maybe she wasn’t so scary.
The seed head of a dandelion was soft to the touch. Incredibly sensitive as well, for the little seeds broke off and fluttered away in the wind with the smallest touch of Crystal’s claw.
She held one up close to her lips. Held her breath. Shut her eyes. Made a wish. And blew.
He called them ‘Princess Flower’s’.
She dug her tiny claws into the window pane of the large New England style house. She used a rock to give her some kind of leverage and the shillings on the side of the house to climb up clumsily, until she could - finally! The inside of the house!
At least the part she wasn’t allowed into.
“What are you doing!?” snarled a voice behind her, before Crystal could get a good look at the dark room. Mary grabbed Crystal by her tiny waist and yanked her from the pane, leaving deep gashes and splintered wood behind.
“Now, look what you’ve done. What did I tell you? Don’t climb on things.” She swatted Crystal’s clawed hands roughly, “Now we have to get the window pane replaced. This is why I tell you to stay put when you’re outside!”
She wagged a red painted, neatly manicured nail in Crystal’s face. Crystal only half understood why this woman would scold her so many times in one day.
”Mother!” cried a harsh, insulted voice. A voice that reminded Crystal that she was still safe, even with this odd looking woman in front of her. Crystal’s mother darted from the back porch to her side, scooping her up into her arms.
“Oh, baby, don’t listen to her. You didn’t know. It’s all right.” She cooed, dusting pieces of splintered wood from Crystal’s finger tips and dress.
“Why do you do that, Margery?” snapped the other woman, angrily gesturing to Crystal, “She’ll never learn. You didn’t think did you? You never do! You just do whatever the hell you want and forget how it affects other people in your life!”
“Mother, be quite! Don’t do this in front of her.” Crystal’s mother snarled, hugging Crystal’s head to her chest. Her hearing was muffled by her mother’ splendid heartbeat. Comforting, warm, consistent, and perfect.
“What did you expect her to do when you said ‘don’t go in there’? She’s a baby.”
“She’s a brat! A spoiled little brat and she’ll never learn! Ever! Just like you! I should’ve had a son.” She ended with a half sob.
Crystal’s mother scoffed loudly and turned away, shaking her head. She placed Crystal back on the ground and smiled at her with sparkling blue eyes.
“Baby, go play, okay?”
Crystal nodded, released her mother’s perfect hands and darted off around the house and away from the mysterious room she wasn’t allowed in. As she ran away the voices of her mother and the woman fighting slowly faded into a slamming door. The house was large and isolated, with large trees that surrounded it and swayed in the breeze, carrying the scent of honeysuckle along with it. There were little white flowers that were scattered throughout the grounds. Some were completely covered, other’s were not.
Crystal tip toed up to a small gathering of them and plucked it out of its group, roughly. The white flecks were released magically and flew around her, tickling her nose. She sneezed, and shook her head.
“Bless you.”
The voice startled her, and she looked up to see an old man sitting in the back porch where her mother had emerged for her rescue. In his lap he held a newspaper, and on his nose a pair of red reading glasses. He smiled tenderly at her and pushed himself to stand on weak knees, placing the paper on the chair he was sitting on.
“I said, bless you.” He enunciated, “You know what you say when someone says that?”
Crystal was quite for a while. Staring, puzzled, at this new figure that held no threat to her and her bald flower. She did sneeze. He did say bless you.
“Thank you.” She peeped softly from her spot on the grass.
The man tilted his head, cupping a hand around his ear, “Eh? What’s that? I can’t hear you, sweetie. You’re gonna have to speak up. I’m old, you see.”
Crystal swallowed nervously, then tried again. Louder this time.
“Thank you.”
He smiled at her and gave a satisfactory nod.
“You are welcome. What’s your name, honey?” he asked as he approached her on the grass. He wore old brown shoes that were faded on the edges.
She was silent again. Thinking of her tone.
“Crystal.”
“Well, Crystal. You should practice speaking up. Silence is blessed, but you can speak your mind when you want to.” He grunted softly as he took a seat beside her on the grass.
Crystal analyzed him from her seat. Curious as to why this man decided to talk to her. She understood what he said only vaguely, but wasn’t sure how to put it into words. But he did like it if she talked, and he wasn’t being mean or looking at her hands like others did.
“What?” she asked, bluntly.
He smiled and chuckled warmly, “You say ‘excuse me’ to adults. It sounds nicer.”
“Excuse me?” she corrected herself, softly.
“Very good. It means, speak your mind when you feel it’s right. Otherwise, you don’t always have to talk.” He explained and it made a little more sense to Crystal. She didn’t have to always talk, which was good because she almost never did.
She returned her attention to the flower in her hand.
“You know what those flowers are called, Crystal?”
She shook her head, looking back up to him.
“Princess Flowers.”
She made a face that made him laugh, and he shifted to reach around her and plucked up a flower.
“Every time you blow all of these little white things off, you make a wish. And if you blow enough of them, and wish hard enough, you’ll turn into a Princess.”
Amazing! Crystal had never heard of such a thing! She looked at the bald one in her hand and then back up the old man.
“Really?” she peeped, and he nodded vehemently.
“Really. See if you can blow them all off on every single one here. Maybe, that’ll make you a Princess.”
Crystal didn’t hesitate. She plucked another one. Shut her eyes, wished, and blew hard. The little white flecks flew everywhere and another landed on her nose. The old man brushed it off with rough, callused hands. But Crystal was focused, and didn’t noticed the large smile he wore on his face, or the small chuckles he gave watching her pluck one Princess Flower after another in the small group and blow them all away.
None were left. But every single one of them had been blow bald. She held the last one in her hand and looked up at him, curious. He smiled, and nodded for her to follow him. He went from his knees to his feet, and held out his large hand for Crystal to take. Her hand disappeared into his and he lead her to a small shack to the side of the house.
“Here we go. You sit here.” He hoisted her up and sat her on a wooden table, then turned his back to her. He hummed a song under his breath as he dug through a box.
Crystal leaned, straining to try and hear what he was singing in his low voice. It tickled her ears.
“As the blackbird in the spring… ‘Neath the willow tree.” He must have seen her peeking, because he started to sing louder, “Sat and piped, I heard him sing. Sing of - Aura Lee.”
He pulled out a small metal tool box and placed it beside her. Opening it up as he continued to hum his tune. Crystal watched as his hands dug through and pulled around, of all things, a chain, but hanging on the chain was a rusted pink flower pendant with the faded words ‘best’ on it. He took up a set of pliers and clipped off a few links on the chain and then hooked it around Crystal’s tiny wrist and set the clasp. She held up her wrist to examine the make-shift bracelet and looked up at him.
“What’s this?”
“A bracelet.”
“For what?”
He smiled, that same smile he gave while Crystal blew out the Princess Flowers, and pinched her chin gently.
“A bracelet for a Princess.”
The next images were a blur. A fight happened. Her mother sobbed for the first time in Crystal’s life. That woman, with her stiff hair, red lips and nails screamed in agitation. Throwing anything she could get her hands on.
Crystal was outside. On the porch in the middle of the night, watching the stars sparkle. Oblivious to the battle inside.
“Hey, Princess?” it was the man again, but he wore a coat. He shifted to kneel before Crystal and took her small hand cupping it between both of his, “You didn’t do this.”
Crystal tilted her head in confusion, “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t do this, and don’t let that woman tell you different. All right? Say ‘all right’.” He urged and Crystal started at the sound of shattering glass and a screaming wail. He tugged her hand roughly to draw her attention, startling her again.
“Say all right, Princess. Say you understand me.”
“All right… I understand you, but - “ she trailed off.
“But what, Princess?”
“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“Princess. You didn’t do this. This mess doesn’t belong to you. Its someone else’s.” he babbled, holding her hand tightly in his. Crystal looked down at her claws and he tightened his hold on her’s, “No. You are not it. This, you didn’t do. You are more than just this. You are more than this. Become more than this. Promise me, Princess. Promise me, you’ll be more than this.”
Crystal nodded, mutely. The house sounded like it was on fire with the sounds coming from within. It made Crystal’s ear drums vibrate and echo, but she was fixated on the man before her. He smiled vacantly, as if his mind had wondered someplace else far away. As if he was trying to memorize Crystal’s face, or trying to look into the future and see what she would be when she grew up.
“Princess… Call me Grandpa. Once. Say ‘I promise to be more than this, Grandpa’, just once.” He begged desperately, “Just once. I have to hear it once.”
Crystal was confused, but she did enjoy this man’s company.
“I promise to be more than this… Grandpa.”
A single tear feel and rolled down his wrinkled cheek. He kissed her cheek softly, stroked her hair and stood up walking away and kept walking away down the gravel filled road.
“Get inside, you!” snarled a voice and Crystal was jerked from her seat and tossed inside by Mary, landing on the ground, roughly.
”Mother!” Crystal’s mother shouted and pulled Crystal from the floor. Stiff and terrified by the sudden jolt, Crystal looked to her mother’s face. She had a red swollen cheek, one puffy eye, and black lines streamed down the side of her face.
“Mama, what happened?” Crystal peeped, but in a flash and with a kiss she was rushed to the dark room she wasn’t allowed in and the door was shut behind her. The room smelled like an old books because it was filled with old books and other antiques. Old guns were mounted on the wall, Winchester riffles of all kinds with different forms of rust on them. Giant glass cases with rusted metal, arrow heads, aged and faded photos with angry looking people in black in white. Pieces of ripped clothe, and torn petty coats.
But where had everyone gone? Crystal scrambled to climb on top of a desk to look out a window. What hadn’t she caused? What was - ‘this’? She pressed her clawed hands up against the dusty window, barely able to see through it.
Then - it happened.
A blast from something loud and final, a shrill sobbing scream, and a wet thud. Her mother’s voice echoed throughout the grounds, bouncing inside Crystal’s head along with the shattering gun fire.
“Daddy! No!”
Crystal opened her eyes to examine the bald dandelion in her hand. One wish made, and the sun was starting to set, staining the horizon with bright orange, pink, and blue.
That memory was strong, but slowly fading at the same time. Crystal could think of several reasons why it would, or should’ve faded into nothing. After all, not many normal people remembered the day their grandfather killed themselves in their front yard.
Crystal did.
Not because she was morbid, but then again, perhaps she was. Why had he done it? No one knew, and no one could ever answer it.
A thought, a sentence, told Crystal that she wasn’t the cause of - this. Whatever this was. Crystal was still trying to figure out. She turned and plucked up another flower beside the grave stone behind her. She closed her eyes, held her breath, and blew off the seedlings. Watching them fly away into nothing.
The grave stone read a quote. A statement that, if Crystal had been told it the first time by that man so long ago, she still would not have understood him. But his message was clear now, and Crystal hadn’t changed much when she was a child. She spoke when she needed to.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth.”
Matthew 5:5
In loving Memory of
Albert McChinney
Beloved husband, father, and grandfather.
((Oc: heeeeyyy that writer's block thing worked. 8D))
Author: ZerimarClassics
Characters: Crystal (this journal), Margery militarymomlove, Margery's Mother, Margery's Father
Notes: Rated R; for suicide. Ye be warned, yo. Remember its aaaalll fake. Comments welcome. Yes. I like my fragment sentences.
Dandelions. Crystal knew what they were called now that she was older. She didn’t when she was younger. In fact, she called them something completely different and it was all because of a man who was so silent his face had almost completely gone from Crystal’s memory.
Old. With graying hair, and a gentle face with soft wrinkles in it. Lines on his face that framed the perfect smile that still filled Crystal with a thought, so simple and yet so comforting; maybe she wasn’t so ugly. Maybe she wasn’t so scary.
The seed head of a dandelion was soft to the touch. Incredibly sensitive as well, for the little seeds broke off and fluttered away in the wind with the smallest touch of Crystal’s claw.
She held one up close to her lips. Held her breath. Shut her eyes. Made a wish. And blew.
He called them ‘Princess Flower’s’.
She dug her tiny claws into the window pane of the large New England style house. She used a rock to give her some kind of leverage and the shillings on the side of the house to climb up clumsily, until she could - finally! The inside of the house!
At least the part she wasn’t allowed into.
“What are you doing!?” snarled a voice behind her, before Crystal could get a good look at the dark room. Mary grabbed Crystal by her tiny waist and yanked her from the pane, leaving deep gashes and splintered wood behind.
“Now, look what you’ve done. What did I tell you? Don’t climb on things.” She swatted Crystal’s clawed hands roughly, “Now we have to get the window pane replaced. This is why I tell you to stay put when you’re outside!”
She wagged a red painted, neatly manicured nail in Crystal’s face. Crystal only half understood why this woman would scold her so many times in one day.
”Mother!” cried a harsh, insulted voice. A voice that reminded Crystal that she was still safe, even with this odd looking woman in front of her. Crystal’s mother darted from the back porch to her side, scooping her up into her arms.
“Oh, baby, don’t listen to her. You didn’t know. It’s all right.” She cooed, dusting pieces of splintered wood from Crystal’s finger tips and dress.
“Why do you do that, Margery?” snapped the other woman, angrily gesturing to Crystal, “She’ll never learn. You didn’t think did you? You never do! You just do whatever the hell you want and forget how it affects other people in your life!”
“Mother, be quite! Don’t do this in front of her.” Crystal’s mother snarled, hugging Crystal’s head to her chest. Her hearing was muffled by her mother’ splendid heartbeat. Comforting, warm, consistent, and perfect.
“What did you expect her to do when you said ‘don’t go in there’? She’s a baby.”
“She’s a brat! A spoiled little brat and she’ll never learn! Ever! Just like you! I should’ve had a son.” She ended with a half sob.
Crystal’s mother scoffed loudly and turned away, shaking her head. She placed Crystal back on the ground and smiled at her with sparkling blue eyes.
“Baby, go play, okay?”
Crystal nodded, released her mother’s perfect hands and darted off around the house and away from the mysterious room she wasn’t allowed in. As she ran away the voices of her mother and the woman fighting slowly faded into a slamming door. The house was large and isolated, with large trees that surrounded it and swayed in the breeze, carrying the scent of honeysuckle along with it. There were little white flowers that were scattered throughout the grounds. Some were completely covered, other’s were not.
Crystal tip toed up to a small gathering of them and plucked it out of its group, roughly. The white flecks were released magically and flew around her, tickling her nose. She sneezed, and shook her head.
“Bless you.”
The voice startled her, and she looked up to see an old man sitting in the back porch where her mother had emerged for her rescue. In his lap he held a newspaper, and on his nose a pair of red reading glasses. He smiled tenderly at her and pushed himself to stand on weak knees, placing the paper on the chair he was sitting on.
“I said, bless you.” He enunciated, “You know what you say when someone says that?”
Crystal was quite for a while. Staring, puzzled, at this new figure that held no threat to her and her bald flower. She did sneeze. He did say bless you.
“Thank you.” She peeped softly from her spot on the grass.
The man tilted his head, cupping a hand around his ear, “Eh? What’s that? I can’t hear you, sweetie. You’re gonna have to speak up. I’m old, you see.”
Crystal swallowed nervously, then tried again. Louder this time.
“Thank you.”
He smiled at her and gave a satisfactory nod.
“You are welcome. What’s your name, honey?” he asked as he approached her on the grass. He wore old brown shoes that were faded on the edges.
She was silent again. Thinking of her tone.
“Crystal.”
“Well, Crystal. You should practice speaking up. Silence is blessed, but you can speak your mind when you want to.” He grunted softly as he took a seat beside her on the grass.
Crystal analyzed him from her seat. Curious as to why this man decided to talk to her. She understood what he said only vaguely, but wasn’t sure how to put it into words. But he did like it if she talked, and he wasn’t being mean or looking at her hands like others did.
“What?” she asked, bluntly.
He smiled and chuckled warmly, “You say ‘excuse me’ to adults. It sounds nicer.”
“Excuse me?” she corrected herself, softly.
“Very good. It means, speak your mind when you feel it’s right. Otherwise, you don’t always have to talk.” He explained and it made a little more sense to Crystal. She didn’t have to always talk, which was good because she almost never did.
She returned her attention to the flower in her hand.
“You know what those flowers are called, Crystal?”
She shook her head, looking back up to him.
“Princess Flowers.”
She made a face that made him laugh, and he shifted to reach around her and plucked up a flower.
“Every time you blow all of these little white things off, you make a wish. And if you blow enough of them, and wish hard enough, you’ll turn into a Princess.”
Amazing! Crystal had never heard of such a thing! She looked at the bald one in her hand and then back up the old man.
“Really?” she peeped, and he nodded vehemently.
“Really. See if you can blow them all off on every single one here. Maybe, that’ll make you a Princess.”
Crystal didn’t hesitate. She plucked another one. Shut her eyes, wished, and blew hard. The little white flecks flew everywhere and another landed on her nose. The old man brushed it off with rough, callused hands. But Crystal was focused, and didn’t noticed the large smile he wore on his face, or the small chuckles he gave watching her pluck one Princess Flower after another in the small group and blow them all away.
None were left. But every single one of them had been blow bald. She held the last one in her hand and looked up at him, curious. He smiled, and nodded for her to follow him. He went from his knees to his feet, and held out his large hand for Crystal to take. Her hand disappeared into his and he lead her to a small shack to the side of the house.
“Here we go. You sit here.” He hoisted her up and sat her on a wooden table, then turned his back to her. He hummed a song under his breath as he dug through a box.
Crystal leaned, straining to try and hear what he was singing in his low voice. It tickled her ears.
“As the blackbird in the spring… ‘Neath the willow tree.” He must have seen her peeking, because he started to sing louder, “Sat and piped, I heard him sing. Sing of - Aura Lee.”
He pulled out a small metal tool box and placed it beside her. Opening it up as he continued to hum his tune. Crystal watched as his hands dug through and pulled around, of all things, a chain, but hanging on the chain was a rusted pink flower pendant with the faded words ‘best’ on it. He took up a set of pliers and clipped off a few links on the chain and then hooked it around Crystal’s tiny wrist and set the clasp. She held up her wrist to examine the make-shift bracelet and looked up at him.
“What’s this?”
“A bracelet.”
“For what?”
He smiled, that same smile he gave while Crystal blew out the Princess Flowers, and pinched her chin gently.
“A bracelet for a Princess.”
The next images were a blur. A fight happened. Her mother sobbed for the first time in Crystal’s life. That woman, with her stiff hair, red lips and nails screamed in agitation. Throwing anything she could get her hands on.
Crystal was outside. On the porch in the middle of the night, watching the stars sparkle. Oblivious to the battle inside.
“Hey, Princess?” it was the man again, but he wore a coat. He shifted to kneel before Crystal and took her small hand cupping it between both of his, “You didn’t do this.”
Crystal tilted her head in confusion, “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t do this, and don’t let that woman tell you different. All right? Say ‘all right’.” He urged and Crystal started at the sound of shattering glass and a screaming wail. He tugged her hand roughly to draw her attention, startling her again.
“Say all right, Princess. Say you understand me.”
“All right… I understand you, but - “ she trailed off.
“But what, Princess?”
“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“Princess. You didn’t do this. This mess doesn’t belong to you. Its someone else’s.” he babbled, holding her hand tightly in his. Crystal looked down at her claws and he tightened his hold on her’s, “No. You are not it. This, you didn’t do. You are more than just this. You are more than this. Become more than this. Promise me, Princess. Promise me, you’ll be more than this.”
Crystal nodded, mutely. The house sounded like it was on fire with the sounds coming from within. It made Crystal’s ear drums vibrate and echo, but she was fixated on the man before her. He smiled vacantly, as if his mind had wondered someplace else far away. As if he was trying to memorize Crystal’s face, or trying to look into the future and see what she would be when she grew up.
“Princess… Call me Grandpa. Once. Say ‘I promise to be more than this, Grandpa’, just once.” He begged desperately, “Just once. I have to hear it once.”
Crystal was confused, but she did enjoy this man’s company.
“I promise to be more than this… Grandpa.”
A single tear feel and rolled down his wrinkled cheek. He kissed her cheek softly, stroked her hair and stood up walking away and kept walking away down the gravel filled road.
“Get inside, you!” snarled a voice and Crystal was jerked from her seat and tossed inside by Mary, landing on the ground, roughly.
”Mother!” Crystal’s mother shouted and pulled Crystal from the floor. Stiff and terrified by the sudden jolt, Crystal looked to her mother’s face. She had a red swollen cheek, one puffy eye, and black lines streamed down the side of her face.
“Mama, what happened?” Crystal peeped, but in a flash and with a kiss she was rushed to the dark room she wasn’t allowed in and the door was shut behind her. The room smelled like an old books because it was filled with old books and other antiques. Old guns were mounted on the wall, Winchester riffles of all kinds with different forms of rust on them. Giant glass cases with rusted metal, arrow heads, aged and faded photos with angry looking people in black in white. Pieces of ripped clothe, and torn petty coats.
But where had everyone gone? Crystal scrambled to climb on top of a desk to look out a window. What hadn’t she caused? What was - ‘this’? She pressed her clawed hands up against the dusty window, barely able to see through it.
Then - it happened.
A blast from something loud and final, a shrill sobbing scream, and a wet thud. Her mother’s voice echoed throughout the grounds, bouncing inside Crystal’s head along with the shattering gun fire.
“Daddy! No!”
Crystal opened her eyes to examine the bald dandelion in her hand. One wish made, and the sun was starting to set, staining the horizon with bright orange, pink, and blue.
That memory was strong, but slowly fading at the same time. Crystal could think of several reasons why it would, or should’ve faded into nothing. After all, not many normal people remembered the day their grandfather killed themselves in their front yard.
Crystal did.
Not because she was morbid, but then again, perhaps she was. Why had he done it? No one knew, and no one could ever answer it.
A thought, a sentence, told Crystal that she wasn’t the cause of - this. Whatever this was. Crystal was still trying to figure out. She turned and plucked up another flower beside the grave stone behind her. She closed her eyes, held her breath, and blew off the seedlings. Watching them fly away into nothing.
The grave stone read a quote. A statement that, if Crystal had been told it the first time by that man so long ago, she still would not have understood him. But his message was clear now, and Crystal hadn’t changed much when she was a child. She spoke when she needed to.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth.”
Matthew 5:5
In loving Memory of
Albert McChinney
Beloved husband, father, and grandfather.
((Oc: heeeeyyy that writer's block thing worked. 8D))