Rewritten

Flowers.

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Prompt: Write a scene that has an unspoken language.

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Loud ringing of a phone erupted in the small cottage, alerting the old woman sitting by the fireplace. She set down her journal, a thick, hand-bound book with pressed flowers on the pages. Scribbled writing was next to every flower. Elliana, her black cat, leapt down from her lap as she shuffled over to the receiver. Her hand reached for the phone, but before she could lift it, the ringing stopped.

"Who is it, Evelyn?" Hugo, her husband, asked from his oak desk. He was busily working away, glancing up at his wife over his glasses. His hands were full of documents, receipts, and various red, yellow, and blue folders.

Evelyn hummed softly, "No one, Hugo. I think it was a wrong numb-"

The pair jolted in surprise as the doorbell rang, startling the small cat who scrambled away on the wooden floors. Evelyn's eyes moved to the window by the front door. She could see that the snow was building outside, the cool flakes falling in a sheet of white. There was a buildup covering the ground, leaving almost a foot on the path leading to the home. Why was someone out there? How did they get through the horrid weather? Her feet carried her to the door, and she peeked through the hole, seeing no person, but catching a glimpse of a bright yellow.

"Evelyn?" Hugo stood in the doorway to his study, watching his wife with creased eyebrows.

"No one's there.." She murmured, unlocking and opening the door. The cold winter air filled the doorway, breaking through the fireplace heat. Evelyn found, at her feet, a vase of flowers. 

Bright, red begonias, yellow carnations, and pink cyclamens. 

Begonias... Her confusion grew as she picked the vase up, inspecting the flowers. A single, black rose sat in the middle of it all.

"Flowers," Evelyn said softly, shutting the door and holding them out for her husband to see. A soft thud came from the kitchen, and Evelyn felt her anxiety grow. "What in the world is going on?" She moved to the kitchen, setting the vase down on the counter.

An opened calendar was beside Ellie as she sat on the counter and gave a soft mew. The woman's eyebrows furrowed, looking over it as she picked it up. A simple flower drawing filled one box. Today's box. The date was December 15th. 

How could she have forgotten? Her mind flickered back to half-buried memories. Evelyn remembered everything about that night. Her ears began to sting as her head started to ache, just as it did when she and her daughter would argue. It was awful that night. The constant buzzing of the intense argument just wouldn't stop. Nothing she said could end it. So, she did what she needed to cease that pain.

Evelyn couldn't help the trembling of her hands as she looked over the page, her mind racing with thoughts on the flowers. She glanced back in the direction of her chair and thought about her book. Begonias... Beware?  

"No, no, I'm tired, that's all. They're just flowers." She murmured to herself. Despite her words, she still thought back to how her daughter would use flowers to communicate with her after their disputes. 

No one else would... No, no, she's gone now. Her heart lurched as she thought of her daughter. Oh Mariam.. I hope you were able to forgive me. Evelyn looked back over the flowers, setting down the calendar book. Yellow carnations... You have disappointed me. These flowers were not unfamiliar to her.

Begonias, carnations, cyclamens.

Her eyes flicked to the calendar as the phone rang again. She froze in place, fear flooding her veins. Was it the police? Did they find her? No, I hid her well. They wouldn't... 

The old woman moved back to her chair and looked at her book once more. She shook her head. Her hands soon found the phone; however this time, the ringing stopped as it was pulled from the receiver.

"...Hello?"

"Hey ma!" A cheery voice hit her ears. Her heart dropped. Mom?

"Who is this?" Evelyn asked, her gaze moving to Hugo in the other room. She motioned for him to pick up the other phone. Her arm was stiff as she did so.

"Are you alright? This storm is horrid," The girl on the phone continued to speak, ignoring Evelyn's question. "Are you guys keeping warm?"

"I... Ah... Yes, yes, the blizzard is quite rough. We've... already got a few inches." She looked back at the flowers. Her gaze seemed unable to look away. "Who is this," she asked again.

Pink cyclamens.

Goodbye.

"Oh, it sounds awful. I sure hope Ellie is staying inside." The girl hummed, a soft giggle rising from her. "I still remember that time when she brought the live snake into the house... I can't say I was surprised when you decided she was to stay indoors." Her voice seemed sickeningly familiar to the older woman. "Are you sure you're alright, mom?"

Evelyn shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut. "Who is this?" She repeated, her lips trembling while tears formed in her eyes. "I do not have any children," she continued, "How do you know about Elliana?"

A soft meow hit her ears as said feline wove between her feet delicately, noticing her owner's unease. Despite Ellie's attempt to soothe her owner, Evelyn continued to shake. When the stranger spoke again, the black cat suddenly hissed and raced off into the back of the house.

"Are you sick or something? Don't recognize me?" The stranger's voice had glitched, sounding as though the signal was growing weak. "I sent you some flowers. Didn't you read the card, mother?"

Evelyn opened her eyes again, searching over the flowers until she found a small card buried between the stems. Piercing pain flushed down her hand when she fished it out. A single, black rose sat in the middle. Death. The old woman gasped, dropping the phone. Her eyes flicked over the card that was held in her hand. The white of the paper was staining red. This is too much blood for a thorn scratch! Panic began to bubble in her throat. The phone was forgotten as she finally read the card. She found only one word: a name.

Mariam? Evelyn immediately dropped the coard and started for her husband's study. Her voice seemed caught in her throat. "Hugo? Dear?" She rasped, peeking her head around the corner and peering into the room. The chair was empty. Where did he go? She heard a creak behind her, breaking the cold silence. All heat flushed from Evelyn and every hair stood on end.

"I sent flowers for your funeral," a voice croaked.

Crrack!

A single, black rose.