BLOOM. ej

i. IT WAS RAINING

CALLA LILY.
— named after the greek word of beautiful,
calla. calla lilies often symbolizes purity,
holiness, and faithfulness.

                                                                                             
                                                                                             
     if you could use one word to describe what life was like, from birth to death, you'd say it was like a flower.

     thin roots deeply etched into rich soil, a small green bud grows. it develops day by day as it learns about the world revolving around them, before blooming to a beautiful flower for everyone to see and admire. it had its beauty, but also its thorns. it's perfect in the other's eyes, but deep down, it had its own imperfections that they choose to ignore.

     most people love them, most don't.

     it's up to the flower if it lets the people's opinion affect them. some die early when they carry the burden of what the others think but some also continues to grow, unaffected by what the others say.

     and once they had serve their purpose in life, they can finally wilt away and wait for the next spring to bloom once again.

     even if others had no idea why a beautiful flower would die so soon.

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     the melody of the raindrops hitting against the windows echoed inside your empty flower shop, making it sound louder than it originally was. the shop turned dark as soon as the rain poured, the soft glow of the lamps hanging on the ceiling was the only light source under the dark sky.

     you looked up from your book, eyebrows narrowed as your ears caught the sound of the rain once again—much louder this time. you put the book down and stood up, leaving the confines behind the counter before weaving through the mazes of the eye-catching flowers set for sale.

     pressing your face against the glass of your shop, the rain poured harder and blurred the windows you were peeking in. the pavement outside was already wet and growing with puddles, and the once bright sky had grown darker and cloudy. people outside rushed to find cover from the rain, some taking their umbrellas out. sounds of thunder reverberated throughout the sky after flashes of light and you heaved a deep sigh, your shoulders slumping as you pouted.

     you hated the rain.

     the only thing you like about it was the sudden drop of temperature that always cooled you up after a day out in the sun. even so, getting wet under the rain or the continuous roaring of the thunder was one of the things you despise.

     rainy days also often bring out sadness, or at least made you remember that very emotion. that was one of the many things that you wished you would no longer feel and forget about.

     it was getting really dark, and it was only two in the afternoon. the colorful flowers inside your shop were already waiting for the golden sunlight that kept them alive and bright. in your eyes, they had drooped down a bit. you could feel their sadness and impatience as they long to feel alive once again with the help of the sun.

     other people would deem you a bit weird, or crazy, for claiming to know what inanimate objects feel but deep down... these flowers have always been alive. just like humans. you've been with flowers ever since you were a child, knowing what they feel like is almost like a second nature.