Flowers blow in the wind, petals falling off them, gently touching the ground. Such a nice sight, isn’t it? The way they fall to the ground, it’s a sight to behold. Now, to you, this isn’t a big deal as I’m making it out to be. I can tell by your faces, with your looks of boredom and confusion that you really don’t want to be bothered with some flower. However, I ask you this. Have you ever looked at it closely, have you ever looked at the detail of that plant? If you do get the chance, have a look at the lines. You may notice there is something on it, a little black speck. This is the only thing that you see with your eyes, but if you could see anything outside the naked eye, you will be astonished by what you see. That little black speck on that flower is me, that little black speck is a person.
We are known as Flower People. We live among your garden, either on your flowers or on your trees. We are a lot different from you; we don’t have large cities and fancy big tins that you seem to move around in, instead we travel by foot and have small towns where everyone knows each other. You seem to always have white plug things in your ears and they seem to blast some sort of strange sound from them. I presume its music, yes? Well, we don’t do that, we don’t ignore the people that are playing the music around the town. Flutes and many more instruments are heard, making our people dance in delight. We also have different clothing styles compared to you; the girls seem to wear pants in your place. It’s a law here to not allow girls to wear any type of pants, so instead we wear dresses and skirts. Indeed, we live differently from you.
The wind picks up as the petal I’m sitting on comes undone, falling down to the ground. It sways side to side, making my hair flow in with the motion. The pond is right near where this flower is, so I’m afraid that I might land in the pond. The wind blows me away from the pond to a tree, pushing me towards it. Don’t just stand there, help me!
You walk up to me, putting me in a jar. It’s suffocating in here; the air is stale and has no life. We seem to be walking inside your home; I must say that your homes are a lot different than mine. If you were to compare mine to yours, yours would be the most creative. My home only consists of three rooms, a bathroom and this massive room where everything else happens. You guys are very practical, separating the kitchen from the living room, it’s very cleaver indeed. We enter a room which I believe is your sleeping chamber. You lead me towards a window, letting me free.
I smile, waving at you. It was a pleasure of meeting you, I hope we can meet again soon.
Just a guess)
Points: 340
Reviews: 13
Donate