Keara Dorvil

When I was young, I had a friend that I cherished. She was a lovely girl in every way. With the prettiest brown eyes that shone so bright in the sun, you would think her tears were made of honey. With gorgeous curly brown hair always done in braids because it never could stay flat on her head. With elegant light brown skin that glowed, and with the most angelic laugh that you ever heard. She always looked at the world with stars in her eyes. And because of her, I saw the world just as colorfully. She adored Mother Nature and Mother Nature adored her. She had always said that my dear friend and I were so alike that we could be twins. I disagree completely. She is a perfect being, while I am just me. She frolics in the flowers and trots through the forests, while I follow, dragging my feet. Whenever I brought this up, she would always say the same thing. “I am you, and you are me. My perfections are your perfections. Your faults are my faults. Our mistakes are our education.” I would then chuckle at her silliness and she would join me. Then we would laugh together until the sun had set and we were struggling to find enough air in the wind to fill our lungs. It was days like those that I enjoyed most. It was days like those that I missed most.

One day, I woke up without my friend beside me. I called for her. No answer. I called once again, and heard a faint response of my name in the opposite direction. I turned and squinted. There she was, in the distance waving her hands happily. She started to walk towards me, slowly. She walked and she walked until she was at a talking distance. I opened my mouth to speak, but she continued walking. Now she was so close that our noses were touching. “Remember, I am you,and you are me. My perfections are your perfections. Your faults are my faults. Our mistakes are our education. You will find me again.” She said, before continuing her long strides into me. I squeezed my eyes shut and put out my hands in defense against the impact of her body colliding with mine. But it never came. It seemed as though she walked right through me. I whipped my head around to find her, but she was nowhere to be seen. “ Ah. We must be playing a game of hide and seek.” I thought. It was a game that we often played during the mornings. So I set out to seek her. I first checked the sky. I searched in the clouds, and then behind the sun. She wasn’t up there, so I set out for the next best option. The forest. Mother Nature would know where my friend went. I made sure to pick up every rock and look under every tree for her as I walked through, but she was not there. When I reached Mother Nature, I asked her if she had seen my friend. She hadn’t. I was starting to get discouraged, as it seemed that she wasn’t even in this world anymore. I checked the flowers that she’d frolic in, but she was not there either. The wind caressed my face and tears gathered in my eyes as I realized that my friend was not hiding. She had left me. All alone. She had abandoned me. I dropped to the floor in sorrow and my sobs could not be muffled by my hands. My only friend, my perfect friend, had left me.

I heard a brief sound of a cracking window and looked up to see cracks in the sky. They were becoming more and more apparent. Through the sun, the white clouds, and through all the blue of the atmosphere. Then everything shattered before me. I crouched down and shielded my body, afraid of being pierced by the airborne shards. Nothing touched me. I slowly stood back up and saw that everything had gone dark. No flowers, no forests, no Mother Nature, and no sight of my beloved friend. I realized that there wasn’t even a floor beneath me, and yet I was not falling. I was floating around in a black hole. I tried to move but after many hours of failing, gave up. I just closed my eyes and let myself stay suspended in the air. I don’t know how long I stayed there before a light appeared in front of my closed eyes. I opened them and followed the light’s path. It led me to a paint brush. I didn’t know what purpose it served, but I took it anyway. I chuckled, dryly, at the irony of a paint brush in such a dark world. For laughs and giggles, I swiped the paintbrush into the air. A dash of blue appeared above me. Astonished, I looked back at the paint brush. I brushed it against the floor, and against all odds, grass appeared before me. I started to run with the brush, facing it so that it would rub against every nook and cranny of this dark place. Low and behold, the once dark world appeared to be a vibrant meadow once again. Except, this time it had a humongous pond in its center. I looked around at what I had done and smiled sadly. This world was beautiful, but it was missing something. Or someone. I thought about how much I would have loved to show my friend the world that I had created. She would have been so proud of me. She would have adored such a sight. I layed by the pond and drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke this time, I froze out of fright for there was a person standing over me. I took a closer look and immediately recognized the familiar, albeit slightly more mature features of my precious friend. She told me that she wasn’t going anywhere and opened her arms for me to run into. I hugged her as tightly as I could and she softly whispered the same words that she had said that miserable day. “Remember, I am you,and you are me. My perfections are your perfections. Your faults are my faults. Our mistakes are our education. You will find me. You know where to look.” Then she disappeared in my arms. I was in despair once more. I had decided that it was best to take a walk by the pond and clear my mind. As I was walking, I noticed my reflection. Staring back at me were the prettiest brown eyes that shone so bright in the sun, you would think they produced tears made of honey. Gorgeous curly brown hair, done in braids because it refused to stay flat on the head that it belonged to. Elegant light brown skin that glowed, and eyes that held the stars. I smiled at my reflection. “Found you.”

The Tiny Shop

by Ryleigh Aulet

A tiny shop, though so small, it held beauty and purpose. Inside were flowers, gorgeous, of varied colors and sizes. Its aura was a private garden. Working at the register was a woman named Daniella. The sound of a bell rang as a door opened. In came an old man, John. He looked clean, with slicked-back gray hair and a casual blue sweater.

“Hello, how can I help you today?” asked Daniella.

In a trance, gazing, surrounded by flowers, he replied. “I’d like one dozen petunias please.” Petunias, a delicate and profound flower. A plant of the nightshade family, with a soothing and joyous character.

“A perfect choice, is there anyone special receiving these?”

John let out a brief sigh. “My wife, she passed a week ago. We were married for 47 years.” He took off his hat and held it to his chest. The love he had for his wife was eternal.

“I’m sorry to hear that, it sounded like a wonderful marriage. May I ask why petunias?” This question caused a smile to appear upon his face, peaking through a neatly trimmed mustache.

“Petunias. The first time I had met my wife was at a botanical garden. I was so nervous, but had found the courage to talk to her. All around us were petunias. On our first date, I had brought her a bouquet, petunias. Ever since then, I would give them to her on every occasion.”

Daniella became teary-eyed, struck by such a sweet story, it had reminded her of her fiance, with whom she was deeply in love. “That is so lovely,” she said. Another smile arose on John's face as he placed his hat back on. At the cash register, she had rung up the flowers, and he was on his way. Again, the sound of the bell, as he exited the tiny shop.