Withered flower

A Story by Niso

Losing our most precious thing, this is what we all fear.

Her fear of losing, of being alone, of seeing the disappointment in the eyes of those she loves�"it clings to her like a mold, spoiling everything beautiful around her.

She is a beautiful flower with sharp, poisonous thorns. Her poison seeps into her veins, poisoning her land. Every time someone tries to reach for her, enchanted by her beauty, the thorns never let them.

But I want to be free. Maybe I’ll be a withered flower afterward, but who cares? I’m hers�"lonely, untouchable, no one by my side.

In a forest shrouded in darkness, she stands alone. The light that once emanated from the moon no longer visits her. She can’t speak, walk, or run�"rooted in place, absorbing life from a hope long since disappointed.

Why did I kill him?
But it wasn’t me. It was my thorns.
No�"it was me.
I am the thorns, the poison.
I am the very thing I feared becoming.

She longs to be understood, seen, and felt, though she doesn’t know why. She fears hurting the one person who tried to truly see her, who noticed her soul rather than just her appearance. But in the end, she did. Her fear killed him, and with him, the hope of being loved without destruction.