Blood and Flowers

Flash Fiction

Everywhere their blood fell, flowers bloomed. Flowers red as their freshly spilled blood, yellow as the woman’s hair, blue as the man’s eyes. Vibrant blooming flowers cloaked the entire field. The two had been fighting for a long time now. One might wonder if these two even remember why they are fighting. The world certainly does not.

But, when two gods clash, it is better to leave them to their own destruction than to involve yourself and risk your own. The two gods had long made their way around the world. Singing their song of steel. Circling, dancing, clashing, and drawing blood. Until the world was bursting with flowers.

Eventually, the two ended up in a solitary field. The delicate petals of the flowers grown from their fallen blood crushed under their dance of violence. Onlookers would come and watch, stand at the edge of the field of crushed flowers and wonder what these two hated so much about each other that they sought the other’s destruction so absolutely. Many a tale has risen about how their quarrel began, but only they know the truth of it.

I stand at the edge of the field and watch these two orbit each other. Colliding in a crash of thunder. Flowers rising from the blood-soaked ground. Bending down, I pick a flower. Raise it to inhale its sweet scent. The silence is the first thing I notice. A sudden absence heavier than stone.

When I raise my gaze, the two gods have ceased their violent duel. They are staring at me. At the plucked flower in my grasp. My hand trembles, but I hold on to the flower. My hand still holds the flower as the blade slices through my wrist, as my hand falls disconnected to land among the blooms.