Anthomancy
If your fortune's told using flowers, you're going to want to be a little patient
On a spring day, the local crone had three visitors. Each one had the same question on their lips: “how will I die?”
The crone found that direct answers were never that useful. So for each, she went out into her garden, chose a flower that she found suitable, clipped it, and brought it to them.
“When the last petal is taken from this flower, you will have your answer,” she said to each client.
The man that received the white dog rose was unhappy with the vague response. But logic dictated if the petals needed to be taken, then he was the one intended to do it. Once he got home, he plucked the petals, one at a time, not noticing the way they took on a red hue as they pooled at his feet. Upon pulling the last one, he waited. And waited. Finally, he tossed the thorny stem when the answer did not come. The crone had cheated him out of his money.
A week later, he was found in an alleyway with five stab wounds and a significant amount of blood loss. He did not make it through the ambulance ride.
The woman that got the geranium could not help but notice the painfully short stem it had. Sure, she was directed to focus on the petals, but the flower as a whole had to have meaning, right? Ever so paranoid, she chose to speed up the process and tore off one of the silky sheets. An unearthly scream filled her ears, startling her. She looked around, knowing everyone in the house would have heard it. But when she didn’t hear doors opening and feet padding on stairs, she pulled another petal. And another. The screams continued, but she guessed that this was part of some test. Yes, she wanted to know the truth. No, she was not afraid.
The flower gave a final howl and its remains whithered in her hands.
She did not understand her answer until a year later when she was diagnosed with some incurable disease. Six months after that, she found herself living out her final days in a hospital bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
The final flower was a blue tulip given to an older widow. She was curious what the crone had in mind with this exercise, but didn’t give it much thought. She took an old vase, placed the flower into it, and cleared a spot for it on her kitchen table.
To her surprise, it lasted a couple weeks in decent condition, a petal coming off here or there. By the end of the third week, the stem was bare and drooped as if disappointed. While she did not know her answer still, she thought of it as an interesting experience and pressed the stem and petals into a book. Missing the extra bit of color in her life, she bought a new tulip from the florist and deposited it into the vase. She continued the habit for several iterations until she learned to grow her own.
Years passed. She remarried. Then, once again, she had outlived her husband, but they had a nice time together, gardening and exploring the little bit of world that was still accessible to them in their old age. Her oldest daughter that still lived in town visited often and moved in when the widow got too old to take care of herself. Five months later, the widow passed away of natural causes. Her daughter had her cremated and used the vase as a makeshift urn.
Every month she clipped a new tulip to put in the vase and watched it flourish as the weeks passed. On the final day, it would always die, but she would quickly have it replaced, as though it had never completely left this world in the first place.
Fact and Fiction
Hey readers! Hope you enjoyed this tale I wrote about two years ago, back when I used to participate in Flash Fiction Friday on tumblr. It was always a good time and led to some interesting stories I wouldn’t have written otherwise!
Unfortunately, friends, it’s time for another short hiatus while I get some minor health concerns taken care of. When I return, I’ll work out a new project schedule, and we’ll continue to enjoy new stories together. I greatly appreciate your patience and support!
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In the meantime, please take this as the last call to visit the Fall Reads page below and download any free ebooks that interest you, including my contribution From My Mind to Yours, if you don’t already have it. It’ll immensely help me and the other indie authors participating.
With proper and loving care flowers stay alive for a lot longer than people expect. A good metaphor for life, I think. 🌸🌼 Thanks for a thought-provoking story!
I expected the first 2 to drop dead when they plucked the final petal, so it was fun to see that they had to wait for the unexpected answer. There is profound wisdom in nurturing the longevity of the blue tulip!