Pumpkin Writings

Flùr na h-aibhne

Once upon a time, there was a small flower that grew between pebbles on the bank of a river. Ever since it had begun sprouting beneath the rocky river shore, the flower had felt different from the other plants growing further away in the forest. The flower has blossomed earlier than had the others, and as soon as its bud did start to unfurl, the blossom had proved itself different than the others indeed. The flower was withering. Its petals were soft and rosy upon the lip, yet dry and dusty citrine at its core.

Come nightfall, the small flower turned its petals upwards and beseeched the moon Luna to make it as beautiful as she. The moon scoffed and bade the flower turn to the sun instead. Come dawn, the small flower once again turned its petals upwards and beseeched the sun Sonce to turn it as beautiful as he. The sun scoffed and bade the flower turn to the moon instead. And so went on days and nights for days untold, until one day the flower's pleas caught the ear of a huntress roaming the woods. The woman, a lady, knelt down at its side and bade it tell her its troubles. The flower and the lady talked for a day and one night, sharing tales of their woes and many a laugh.

Upon the soft arrival of nightfall, the flower sighed serenely and bade the huntress good night before turned its petals downwards. The lady, already asleep, slumbered with a peaceful smile on her lips til the very next morn. The huntress, roused by dawn's early light, awoke to a terrible sight: the flower had shrivelled and withered and died. She let out a scream as she cradled the flower's dried petals within gently cupped hands. She pleaded with Sonce and Luna and all of their children to bring her love back, but lo the Heavens did laugh and turned their backs to the grieving lady. Slowly, the woman bowed her head and faced the great river, upon which she placed her love's withered remains onto the cool currents. The tearstained petals slowly drifted down the untroubled waters blue, then curiously, they floated to its centre before sinking down to the pebbles below. The lady wept and moaned til her sight became blurred, losing sight of her love and the river. Then up from the waters rose softly and truly a peculiar flowery maid. She waded through the river and gently raised up her hands to cup the lady's face. "Do not weep so for me, oh sweet lady. Come, let go of your tears, for there is no more cause for them.". The huntress, afeared, did reach for her bow, but set it down quickly at the sound of the voice. "I know not your name but this I know true: the one that I love can only be you!".

The river maid then faltered and slowly she said: "I am but a small river blossom, dear lady, my colouring pallid. How ever could one such as you lay eyes upon me?". The lady merely laughed then embraced her petal-soft maid. "A huntress I was, but one such no more; my heart has met its mate upon this river shore.". The maidens embraced for Time to behold, yet not even death did them part, or so I am told. To this day 'tis said that one can still see the lovers embracing in the form of a tree.