Watch the Flowers (standard:other, 2575 words)
Author: Jen	Added: Mar 22 2006	Views/Reads: 3024/2152	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Eleanor finds herself at the brink of insanity as she discovers herself wounded in the middle of a deserted field and no memory of the cause. Charlie, a shady homely man, comes to her rescue mysteriously...

The first sense to reawaken was of smell. The biting aroma of grass and
dirt pierced her nasal passage. She tried to open her eyes. They 
wouldn't. She tried to move, she couldn't. It had to be early morning, 
because there was the chill only dawn could produce. She was shivering. 
It was cold. Her sense of hearing animated. Birds chirping, soft swift 
ripples of a breeze moving trough the trees, footsteps. She tried to 
call out, she couldn't. Footsteps. Closer. Closer. Grass crunching 
beneath a foot, twigs breaking, heavy breathing. Her heartbeat rattled 
in her chest. It was a horrible thing not to be able to scream when 
your very soul was twisted and knotted into fear. She felt a hand on 
her shoulder, on her cheek. It was warm. She wanted to move towards it, 
like a moth longs for the light of a lantern. 

“Are you alright? Can you hear me?” the person with the warm hand said
loudly. She didn't think the person needed to talk that loud, after 
all, she wasn't deaf. It was definitely a man's voice, he had a very 
smooth voice, like strong black espresso. She tried to nod, she 
couldn't. She realized this and tried to shake her head, she couldn't. 
The man brought his warm fingers to nape of her neck, apparently 
checking for a pulse. It tickled, she tried to laugh, but she couldn't. 


“Miss? Are you conscious?” he asked again, with the espresso voice and
the warm hands. The birds' song and wind's whistling suddenly grew 
louder, and her heart beat stronger. Her eyes fluttered open. The first 
sight was of the man. Her heart skipped.His light brown hair was 
plastered with sweat. His grey eyes reflected the morning. She looked 
through them, it was like entering a fog, where you don't know which 
way is left or right or up or down. She was lost. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. She searched his face for a clue to this
situation of mysteries. 

“Where are we?” her voice came out cracked and dry, she felt the
metallic taste of blood on her tongue. 

“In a some sort of a field, in Lancaster,” he tried. Her mind fuzzed
over this idea. How did I get to Lancaster? Last night, where was I 
last night? 

“Listen, are you hurt? Your head looks a bit damaged on the side here,”
said the man. She reached a lazy hand up and touched the spot that 
started to throb excruciatingly. Her fingers retracted covered in a red 
substance that looked like blood. 

“My head's bleeding,” she croaked. Panic set in. What had happened? Why
was she here? Who was this man? He took off his button down and threw 
it around her shoulders. The warmth immediately spread throughout, the 
pain subsided for a moment. 

“Yeah, we need to get you to the hospital.” 

“Hospital...yes...” He snaked an arm behind the small of her back and
hoisted her up gently. The throbbing in her head greatly increased. She 
almost doubled over again in white hot pain. The man pulled her close, 
wrapped her arm around his neck. His neck was warm. His body was warm. 
His clothes seemed to absorb the damp atmosphere, they were frigid like 
the air. 

The weeds were crushed beneath their feet, lemon mint flowers lay
shattered and broken in their wake. Now was not a time to be sparing 
flowers. It sickened her. How could something so innocent and beautiful 
be killed and trampled without a second thought. 

“Watch the flowers...” she let out weakly. He didn't seem to hear her. 

“What's your name?” he asked. 

“Umm...” 

“Can't you remember?” he asked. 

“Yes. It's...ah, Eleanor...yes, that's right. Eleanor Gardner,” she
replied hesitantly. 



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