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For the writing prompt, Bloom by the Paper Kites. |
; mentions of loss, grief, mental health It was another day like any other. Me and my brother sat by a large tree nested atop of a hill. We had picnics and read to each other there. I would draw, and he would treasure my art. He was more of a music person. The wind soaked the air and the landscape. Livestock pranced between the two and let the grass blanket their legs. I cherished having my own farm one day. I felt content next to them. He was there, looking as cool and as role model-y as ever. We were there for each other. He was a friend I never had. The sun wouldn't have shined so beautifully if he hadn't been there. If he hadn't pointed it out. The grass held blooming flowers in front of us. I'd watch them every day, and pick one to take in its beauty. My brother watched with amusement and named every flower I plucked from the greenery. Every flower bloomed with a purpose. They weren't there for show-at least that's what my brother told me. It seemed true since we never got flowers anywhere else. The only ones we got were the ones that grew right in front of us. The wind continued to blow, and I took the chance to close my eyes. My head was pressed into the bark. I enjoyed this, but only for a moment. I felt a hand on mine. I opened my eyes and saw my brother's sad eyes. I stared at his face, looking through his blue eyes and his long hair. For the first time, I had seen him sad. This wasn't normal. He was usually so happy. What happened? Me, now, was sitting against the tree. Only my presence was known; only I existed. I was never aware of his pain. His smile made me think that everything in the world was okay. He only wanted to protect me. I felt selfish. Knowing my brother, though, this was what he wanted. He didn't want me to see his pain. Not until the last moments, when it became unbearable. I sat against the tree and stared at the newest flower of the bunch. It was the same color as the other flowers, but it stood out against them. There was plenty of room for this flower. And it stared at me. |