oops I saw this really late, lol sorry, but I'm making more now! :D

i like this story a lot! very nice! the ending is sad but cute! gj! id love to see more.

Tell me if you guys wanna see another story, cause I've written a few more already :D

(Read from bottom please)

The End!


It's kinda a bitter-sweet ending or something I guess. :/

The brick that the boy had carved wording into, soon had a visitor. The flowers old friend. A small bee sat on top the brick, looking around in wonder. it flew in front of the brick to read it. It read:
R.I.P. Poor Petals.

“Sorry.” The boy whispered. He seemed to like to talk quietly to the flower. As if he didn’t want to alarm it. The white pedals surrounding the pollen top and stem drooped, and the leaf caught onto the boys finger, wrapping tightly around. The boy felt a small object drop onto his palm. The flower nodded its top half, and the boy nodded back, slipped his finger out, and covered the hole with dirt. Then he picked up the trowel, carving words onto a brick. Teddy set the brick on top of the dirt pile and sadly wiped his cheek clean of a few small tear drops. He looked at the small seed in his hand that the flower dropped for him, picked up the trowel, and ran into the trees again, to plant a new life.

The flower saw the woman shake her head, and tick her tongue against the top of her mouth twice. “Ted, I can’t.” She said, causing a wave of disappointment around the small cottage. The boy started to look down sadly. He took the flower right outside the front door, setting it down after jumping over the two steps that led to the soft grass. He got a trowel from a crate, and dug a small hole. The boy set the trowel down, and thoughtfully placed the flower into the hole, without letting go yet.

Please don’t put me next to that abomination of heat. The flower thought. The woman kept rocking her chair back and forth repeatedly, creating a small creaking sound. Her cheeks were rose pink, just as the boys cheeks were, and she wore a small thoughtful face. Her hair was tied up in a bun, with only a few strands coming over her ears. The boy set the flower in his mothers cold hands. The flower worried. “What is it, teddy?” The lady wondered, glancing at the flower. “It’s a flower I accidentally cut- I was trying to get it for the bouquet. It was soo pretty in the red oak forest, the prettiest flower I’ve seen there! It didn’t deserve to be cut! Please mum, fix it!”

The flower wondered why the boy thought it was a bad thing, cutting its stem, when he had cut many others in the bouquet. But then he dropped the bouquet along the way, and the flower couldn’t help but feel bad that those flowers would whither just as fast as this one would. “MOM!” The boy kept yelling. He finally stopped at a small cottage with a chimney that was pushing plenty of fire’s smoke plumes up to the cloudy, periwinkle sky. The flower wondered how much longer life would carry him. Now he thought it would be not much longer, but he’d survive the night, hopefully. The boy rushed in, slammed the door behind him, and ran to a woman on a rocking chair, sitting next to the fire.