There's A Lot More We've Yet To See

The Flowers Beneath You

Pain is the first sensation the human child registers upon waking.

Their bones ache, their skin stings, and there is an unpleasant soreness all around.

They lay prone against something thin and soft and cold, something smelling faintly like... something pleasant, light. A smell they can't quite place. It wafts into their nose. Presses against their cheek.

A numbness claws at the back of their mind.

Where were they?

Fluttering heavy eyelids reveals brief glimpses of yellow, and nothing more. Fear begins to settle.

They remember running, running, running...

Their heart thuds against the ground, their legs burn in exhaustion, confusion seeps into their veins, and there's something glowing-- glowing faintly, stubbornly...

Their fingers sink into soft earth as they attempt to move. It's warm, like it's been sitting under the sun's gentle light all afternoon, just content to bask in the soft heat. By now, they believe they have a good idea of what they lay on.

They will strength back to their body, will their arms to move, to push themselves up-- and succeed in shoving dirt into their fingernails.

That's a no-go.

Their cheek itches against a petal-- these were flowers, right?-- as they nose forward, trying to turn. To raise their head. To open their eyes. Anything at this point.

They have to get back. Back from wherever this is, back to home, back to the house that won't miss them, back to the flowers that droop as they pass, back to the shadows that hiss at them to go, go away, don't come back. We don't need you. You don't like us...

Back to what, exactly?

Their determination evaporates, and they simply lay still, unmoving in the bed of yellow flowers. They manage to lift their eyelids and the flowers come into focus. They're actually really pretty.

Golden flowers, bright and pleasant smelling, glowing from the shafts of light that filtered from the sky above.

They remember falling, falling, falling...

Beyond the flower patch, there's nothing but darkness and faint shapes. Nothing for their eyes to grasp, to process, nothing to give them the faintest clue.

What now?

...And just what is that glowing next to them?

They shift, soil smudging their cheek and golden petals kissing the mess in apology. (They forgive them, of course they do.) They squint at the blurry edges of a shape, trail their gaze to the center, and know for sure that they weren't anywhere they've ever been to before.

Because they certainly have never seen red hearts bobbing in midair before.

It flutters, seemingly in response to the bewilderment they're feeling at this moment. The child blinks, enthralled. Its warm glow pulses in response to the emotion. Neat. They smile slowly. Okay, maybe this isn't so hopeless. The heart steadies, and glows brighter.

A quiet giggle materialises before them.

Followed by another.

And another.

The heart shirks back towards their chest as they attempt to recoil from the small, grinning faces plastered on tiny yellow flowers bursting forth from the soil. Each face looks cartoonishly simple, just a pair of oval eyes and a curved smile framed by bright yellow petals. If they tried, they would probably be able to capture the flowers' likeness with crayons. Thin green stems sway coyly to a random rhythm.