The Garden
This is a short little fairy-tale type story I wrote a few years back. I haven't done a whole lot of editing to it since it read pretty well I think. It's a fairy tale, what's there to say?
Because of how old it is you're free to post honest opinions about the quality or style, but not any serious critique because I've made steps in different, more serious writing. xD
I have no idea what tags to use for this. There's no furries OR people. ._.
Once upon a time, there was a garden full of happy flowers and bluebirds and nothing ever seemed to go wrong.
The most beautiful of them all were the roses.
Everyone admired the roses, particularly a little dandelion who grew in the garden. Every day the little dandelion stared at them in awe, and dreamed of being as beautiful as them.
The dandelion happened to grow next to a rose bush, and the two of them had become good friends over time. The dandelion admired her most of all, because not only was she beautiful, but kind. She always shielded the dandelion from the eyes of the gardener, and would talk to him when other flowers did not care to... For dandelions are, as you know, weeds.
One day, as they sat enjoying a fine summer day, the Dandelion looked up at his rose friend, and said to her, "dearest rose, I do not know the words to say how I so admire your velvet petals and elegant shades of red. I wish that one day I, too, could be a rose like you." The rose looked down at him and smiled her charming smile, but said nothing in return...
But the dandelion was as happy with that answer as with any other she may have given him, for he loved her dearly.
Summer turned to fall, and fall to winter, and then spring and summer again. And the rose grew, high above the ground to bask in the sun and the admiration of all the other flowers. And the dandelion still spoke to her every day, speaking of his dreams and his hopes, but no longer did the rose answer... No longer could she hear him.
And still he did not mind, for he loved her dearly.
As the rose grew, the leaves that had once shielded the dandelion from harm died, and became thin, and he was left exposed. And it was in summer that the gardener came to tend to the garden. Fearful, the dandelion cried for help from his friend, but she paid no mind to him. It was luck for the Dandelion that the gardener was old, and nearly blind, and could not tell the difference between him and a daisy, and he was left in peace.
But every day the gardener came, the dandelion feared for his life and called again to the rose, who would smile at him, and say nothing.
And he realized, quite suddenly, that he was alone. She had grown up, high above him, while he remained below. No other flower dared speak to a weed. He became desperate for somebody, anybody, to talk to. He longed for a friend in the rose, and reached out the only way he knew how.
He spread his roots across the garden, wrapping them about those of the rose, who did not seem to notice, or mind.
But she did notice. And she very much DID mind. And she did what the dandelion had done for so long without success... She cried for help, help against the weed that was trying to drain away her health and her beauty. The gardener heard her cries.
The dandelion was removed from the garden. He was cast into the yard and left there.
And though at first he was sad, and felt betrayed, as he gazed at her, he realized she had every right to alert the gardener... Or at least, he thought this might be true. He did not think much... Instead, he watched the rose, and longed to be at her side and tell her again about how he wished one day to be a rose, and for her to look down at him and smile again.
And he would not mind, for he loved her dearly.