Between the lands of burnt red ash sands and the cold bitten snow powdered mountains, was
a land perfect as can be, the perfect in between. It was filled with luscious green emerald
valleys and sun kissed golden leaves, skies clearer than the bluest seas. In this land lived an
old lady who took pride in the most splendid of flowers she grew. Though, she was especially
fond of two species: the Ruvia plant and the Sladia.
The first was a fragile, brittle flower with the most graceful of vivid red petals. The red it held
was said to be so rich and beautiful, one could cure their sadness just by perceiving the flower.
Yet , in addition to needing an immense amount of care, the plant had quite a problem. It would
only blossom in spring, later become brown and twisted throughout the rest of the year. During
this period, its roots would sometimes strangle the other plants, massacring many species,
though the old lady did not care. She found that the two months it blossomed were worth the
arduous maintenance.
The second plant the gardner took the greatest of prides on, was actually a vegetable,a bright
blue nutriment. Its blue plump body would reflect fantastically under the sun and it had an
impressive ability. When one was to bite into the juicy food, it could either grant the deepest of
desires or poison the mouths of those who dared. For this reason, the plant was wanted all over
the land. Everyone wanted to test their fate and bite into the Sladias.
One day, while racking the soils of her plantations, and watering her many many crops, the
lady had a brilliant idea. What if she were to mix her two favorite species. It would make for the
most spectacular of hybrids, she thought. Enthusiastic, she quickly rushed to work on her new
mission. After days and days of twisting the roots of both species together, a new plant had
finally blossomed.
Upon the first glance of her creation, the lady started to weep. Never, in her many years, had
she seen anything quite so beautiful. The design was surely breathtaken. She had fabricated a
magnificent black flower, whose darkness mirrored the everlasting void present in her heart. It
was nature’s gentle smile, a burst of fragile beauty, nature,colour and scent, all in one. It was
simply perfect.
The rich presence of the flower made her think about her dead husband.That is to say, the
scent of its petals was a bitter sweet reminder of her lost love. Her longing for her late husband
had long echoed through her loneliness, and heavily weighed upon her chest. Thus, she began
to love the flower even more, not wanting to lose her love once more. Craving the sentiment of
reassurance, that filled the echoing walls of her mind in its view.
Only, the creation of this had actually resulted in not only one but two plants. The second was
not at all like the first, It was white. Lighter than the softest of heavens and purer than the
kindest of souls. Yet the lady didn't even bother to look twice at the second bloom. She was too
mesmerised by the first. In fact she was so distracted by it that she did not notice that its roots
were boiling with the deadliest of poisons. A simple whiff of the incurable toxin would incinerateany sign of life. And when she found out she simply did not care, for Grief had hollowed her out,
leaving only a fragile, aching shell that only the black flower's beauty seemed to fill.
As days passed, both flowers grew and grew. Every morning, the woman would come down
to her garden to water her special creations. Although, pretty quickly she noticed that the black
flower would slowly demand more and more hydration. Instead of finding more water, she
immediately decided to give it some of the water meant for the white flower. As a result, the
latter began to slowly wither away. And what did the woman think about this? Nothing at all!
She was too focused on the black one to even notice the perplexing growing issue.
Every day, with the extra water, the blackflowers' deadly roots grew like thick vines travelling
many, many miles under the soil of the entire garden poisoning all her other plants. In fact, they
grew so far they had rather swiftly reached the ground of a small town situated near where the
old lady lived. Quickly the mortal toxin spread from the earth to all the crops the village had
been growing. When the village began to eat their carrots, potatoes, apples, any plant at all,
they began to drop dead. More and more deaths rapidly spread. The news began to be
broadcasted in tv’s all over the globe. The simple flower had caused a worldwide treacherous
pandemic.
Eventually, the old lady figured out the cause of such a catastrophe was her own most prized
possession. Yet instead of cutting the flower and putting an end to such a massacre, the lady
only took more and more care of it. The black flower’s beauty had become her siren, luring her
deeper and deeper into the darkness.Her obsession had become a devouring flame, a
maelstrom that consumed her soul, blocking her rational thinking. She had truly been blinded by
the beauty and fragrance of the thick black petals that she was unbothered by the chaos they
wreaked.
Instead, she would just watch as more and more bodies collapsed as she continued to
harvest the flower. She had convinced herself that eventually the deaths would just cease and
everything would come back to normality. She just couldn’t bear to see all her hard work
destroyed, she couldn’t. Second by second as the roots expanded over the countries, more
populations perished and she didn’t care at all. Her love for the plant had truly rendered her
blind. As the venom continued to spread and the final human fell like the rest , she didn’t quite
care at all; she was perfectly content so long as her plant remained to blossom. She couldn't
escape the thought that the black flower's presence was a bittersweet solace, a reminder of
what she had lost, yet a fleeting comfort in her loneliness. Thus, she remained obsessively
caring for her creation.
In time, the flower grew so much that, against pure logic, its petals spread like wildfire
expanding to the point of encompassing the old lady and suffocating her too, rendering it the
only living thing existing. The woman had been so indifferent to the problem, completely
controlled by her love and obsession over the plant, that she had single handedly caused the
end of life on our planet as a whole. As she drew her last breath her mind was filled with only
one thought: if only she had cut the plant before it was too late. Her obsession was aslow-burning fire that had eventually consumed her, fueled by the memory of her dead
husband's gentle touch.
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 10:09 AM UTC
Between the lands of burnt red ash sands and the cold bitten snow powdered mountains, was
a land perfect as can be, the perfect in between. It was filled with luscious green emerald
valleys and sun kissed golden leaves, skies clearer than the bluest seas. In this land lived an
old lady who took pride in the most splendid of flowers she grew. Though, she was especially
fond of two species: the Ruvia plant and the Sladia.
The first was a fragile, brittle flower with the most graceful of vivid red petals. The red it held
was said to be so rich and beautiful, one could cure their sadness just by perceiving the flower.
Yet , in addition to needing an immense amount of care, the plant had quite a problem. It would
only blossom in spring, later become brown and twisted throughout the rest of the year. During
this period, its roots would sometimes strangle the other plants, massacring many species,
though the old lady did not care. She found that the two months it blossomed were worth the
arduous maintenance.
The second plant the gardner took the greatest of prides on, was actually a vegetable,a bright
blue nutriment. Its blue plump body would reflect fantastically under the sun and it had an
impressive ability. When one was to bite into the juicy food, it could either grant the deepest of
desires or poison the mouths of those who dared. For this reason, the plant was wanted all over
the land. Everyone wanted to test their fate and bite into the Sladias.
One day, while racking the soils of her plantations, and watering her many many crops, the
lady had a brilliant idea. What if she were to mix her two favorite species. It would make for the
most spectacular of hybrids, she thought. Enthusiastic, she quickly rushed to work on her new
mission. After days and days of twisting the roots of both species together, a new plant had
finally blossomed.
Upon the first glance of her creation, the lady started to weep. Never, in her many years, had
she seen anything quite so beautiful. The design was surely breathtaken. She had fabricated a
magnificent black flower, whose darkness mirrored the everlasting void present in her heart. It
was nature’s gentle smile, a burst of fragile beauty, nature,colour and scent, all in one. It was
simply perfect.
The rich presence of the flower made her think about her dead husband.That is to say, the
scent of its petals was a bitter sweet reminder of her lost love. Her longing for her late husband
had long echoed through her loneliness, and heavily weighed upon her chest. Thus, she began
to love the flower even more, not wanting to lose her love once more. Craving the sentiment of
reassurance, that filled the echoing walls of her mind in its view.
Only, the creation of this had actually resulted in not only one but two plants. The second was
not at all like the first, It was white. Lighter than the softest of heavens and purer than the
kindest of souls. Yet the lady didn't even bother to look twice at the second bloom. She was too
mesmerised by the first. In fact she was so distracted by it that she did not notice that its roots
were boiling with the deadliest of poisons. A simple whiff of the incurable toxin would incinerateany sign of life. And when she found out she simply did not care, for Grief had hollowed her out,
leaving only a fragile, aching shell that only the black flower's beauty seemed to fill.
As days passed, both flowers grew and grew. Every morning, the woman would come down
to her garden to water her special creations. Although, pretty quickly she noticed that the black
flower would slowly demand more and more hydration. Instead of finding more water, she
immediately decided to give it some of the water meant for the white flower. As a result, the
latter began to slowly wither away. And what did the woman think about this? Nothing at all!
She was too focused on the black one to even notice the perplexing growing issue.
Every day, with the extra water, the blackflowers' deadly roots grew like thick vines travelling
many, many miles under the soil of the entire garden poisoning all her other plants. In fact, they
grew so far they had rather swiftly reached the ground of a small town situated near where the
old lady lived. Quickly the mortal toxin spread from the earth to all the crops the village had
been growing. When the village began to eat their carrots, potatoes, apples, any plant at all,
they began to drop dead. More and more deaths rapidly spread. The news began to be
broadcasted in tv’s all over the globe. The simple flower had caused a worldwide treacherous
pandemic.
Eventually, the old lady figured out the cause of such a catastrophe was her own most prized
possession. Yet instead of cutting the flower and putting an end to such a massacre, the lady
only took more and more care of it. The black flower’s beauty had become her siren, luring her
deeper and deeper into the darkness.Her obsession had become a devouring flame, a
maelstrom that consumed her soul, blocking her rational thinking. She had truly been blinded by
the beauty and fragrance of the thick black petals that she was unbothered by the chaos they
wreaked.
Instead, she would just watch as more and more bodies collapsed as she continued to
harvest the flower. She had convinced herself that eventually the deaths would just cease and
everything would come back to normality. She just couldn’t bear to see all her hard work
destroyed, she couldn’t. Second by second as the roots expanded over the countries, more
populations perished and she didn’t care at all. Her love for the plant had truly rendered her
blind. As the venom continued to spread and the final human fell like the rest , she didn’t quite
care at all; she was perfectly content so long as her plant remained to blossom. She couldn't
escape the thought that the black flower's presence was a bittersweet solace, a reminder of
what she had lost, yet a fleeting comfort in her loneliness. Thus, she remained obsessively
caring for her creation.
In time, the flower grew so much that, against pure logic, its petals spread like wildfire
expanding to the point of encompassing the old lady and suffocating her too, rendering it the
only living thing existing. The woman had been so indifferent to the problem, completely
controlled by her love and obsession over the plant, that she had single handedly caused the
end of life on our planet as a whole. As she drew her last breath her mind was filled with only
one thought: if only she had cut the plant before it was too late. Her obsession was aslow-burning fire that had eventually consumed her, fueled by the memory of her dead
husband's gentle touch.
Symbolism:
The story can be seen as a critique of the world in several ways:
- The dangers of unchecked desire and obsession: The old lady's all-consuming love for the black flower leads to destruction and chaos, highlighting the dangers of allowing desire and obsession to go unchecked. This can be seen as a commentary on the dangers of unchecked capitalism, consumerism, and the pursuit of beauty and perfection.
- The consequences of prioritizing beauty over humanity: The old lady prioritizes the beauty of the black flower over the lives of others, highlighting the dangers of valuing aesthetics over human life. This can be seen as a critique of a society that prioritizes beauty and perfection over the well-being of its citizens.
- The destructive power of grief and loss: The old lady's grief and loss consume her, leading to destruction and chaos. This can be seen as a commentary on the ways in which societal expectations and pressures can exacerbate grief and trauma, leading to further harm and destruction.
- The dangers of isolation and disconnection: The old lady's isolation and disconnection from the world contribute to her obsession with the black flower, highlighting the dangers of social isolation and disconnection. This can be seen as a critique of a society that values individualism and independence over community and connection.
- The apathy of those in power: The story can be seen as a commentary on the apathy and indifference of those in power, who prioritize their own desires and interests over the well-being of others. The old lady's lack of concern for the destruction she is causing is a symbol of this apathy.
Overall, the story is a critique of a world that prioritizes beauty, perfection, and individual desire over humanity, connection, and the well-being of others.That's a fascinating interpretation! The garden as a family is a compelling symbol, and assigning each plant to a family member adds a new layer of depth to the story.
- Ruvia (Mom): The Ruvia plant's beauty and fragility could represent a mother who is loving and nurturing, but also vulnerable and perhaps struggling to maintain her own identity. Her fleeting attention and affection could symbolize a mother who is overwhelmed and unable to devote herself fully to her family.
- Sladia (Dad): The Sladia plant's seductive and alluring nature could represent a father who is charismatic and confident, but also potentially toxic and manipulative. His influence could be corrupting and destructive, causing harm to those around him.
- White Flower (Older Sister): The white flower's purity and kindness could represent an older sister who is gentle, compassionate, and empathetic. She may be overlooked or undervalued by her family, but she is essential to their well-being.
- Black Flower (Youngest Sister): The black flower's intensity and passion could represent a youngest sister who is creative, emotional, and all-consuming. Her obsession and grief could symbolize a child who is struggling to cope with the complexities of her family and the world around her.
This interpretation adds a new layer of tragedy to the story, as the family's dynamics and relationships lead to destruction and chaos. The old lady's focus on the black flower could represent a mother's guilt and grief over her youngest child's struggles, and her inability to let go of her own emotions and desires.
What do you think about the role of the father (Sladia) in the family? Is he absent, or is he actively contributing to the family's problems?