
Flower
Richard Liao
(Issue 2)
Snow blankets the park as I retrace old paths, wrapped in silence. Children sled down a nearby hill, their laughter reaching me through the winter air, though it doesn’t quite warm the emptiness inside. A young boy approaches, holding a single purple flower—a curious thing to find in winter.
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The snow fell, thick and heavy. The cold, crisp wind kissed my face as I looked at the winter wonderland ahead.
I strode down the snow-covered path, retracing the footsteps of those who walked it before me. The once-lush park
was now coated with white, the snow like a thick, heavy blanket; it was still quite the sight, despite the bitter cold and barren
trees. The majestic red and gold of autumn was long gone, with the remains of what was spared swept away by the winter
breeze.
I observed the frozen world silently, taking deep breaths of the icy air as I made my way toward the small hill in the
distance. These days, the park was perhaps the only thing keeping me alive. Through the dark and empty void within.
As I trudged up the hill, two children slid past on toboggans, squealing. I watched them slide down, their energy
seemingly endless. I tried to find solace in this— how I wasn’t completely locked up in my own dark world and I could still hear
the children’s excited screams, feel their warmth. But as usual, I found nothing, except the gaping hole that had settled in my
chest.
I climbed further up the hill, finding my usual picnic table covered with snow. I brushed off a small section of the seat
and, ignoring the rest of the powdered snow, sat down.
The slowly sinking sun shone on my face, and I had to squint to see what was beyond. The small town was typically
quiet, unlike the big city fifty kilometres away. I could see the outline of the towering skyscrapers and busy atmosphere in the
distance. The big city had always felt too crowded for me, too loud and— moving. Here, in the town, I could enjoy my free days
like this—watching the sunset from the top of the hill.
I tried to savour these moments of peace and quiet. So there I sat under the cerulean sky, watching the snow glisten
from the setting sun. Laughter echoed from the open fields below and beyond. I closed my eyes. How long had it been since I
had last felt that joy of being so free?
“Hello?”
My eyes opened to find a young boy standing before me, his coat covered with snow and a toboggan in hand.
I spoke, my voice surprisingly weak, “What’s wrong?”
“Do you like sledding?”
I hummed. “I used to.”
“Why don’t you anymore?”
I hesitated, thinking of a way to reply. In the end, I just answered, “I grew out of it.”
“Oh.” The little boy showed no signs of understanding. Not that I expected him to. Just how much would a young child
understand about the world anyway?
I turned away and went back to staring into nothing, willing the boy to leave. But the boy, apparently not finished,
spoke up once more.
“Do you believe in fun? My mommy and daddy never played. They don’t seem to believe in fun.”
I sighed, the answer once again failing to reach me. “There are many things I believe and don’t believe in.”
The boy didn’t seem to mind how I avoided answering his question. Instead, he held up something in his other hand; a
lush, purple flower.
I frowned, confused. I opened my mouth to ask the boy where he got it, but before I could, he cut in.
“My mommy says to believe in yourself when you don’t believe in anything else. She’s gone now—Daddy sometimes
doesn’t seem to believe in her. But I still do. And I hope she believes in herself too.”
Whatever answer I had in my throat died off, and I swallowed. The flower in my hand seemed to glow, a light in the cold
world around us. By the time I looked back up, the boy was gone, the only sign that he was ever there being the disturbed snow
in front of me.
How the child managed to get such a beautiful flower in the middle of winter was beyond my knowledge. But despite
myself, I smiled. Maybe I had truly gone insane. Maybe this was what it felt like to be finally swallowed by the darkness lurking
in me.
And if I were being honest, it wasn’t too bad.
Feeling lighter than I had for a while, I looked up to find the sky ablaze with a rosy orange, lighting up the world in all its
glory.
So I sat and watched the sunset, the boy’s flower in hand.