The Late Bloomer


A beautiful garden, flowers blossoming wherever your gaze may fall. All kinds and all colors, all names and all sorts. Each type of flower was neatly kept with their own kind. To a person just taking a stroll, it looked as if it was a mere breeze rustling the petals of the lovely beings. However, to a careful observer, more may be seen. Living things have some means of communication, don't they?

As was previously said, the flowes were kept with their own kind. But.. could it be? Clustered together in small groups like that, the assortments of blossoms seemed to stay in.. cliques. Flowers don't have cliques.


Hidden among the foliage of the garden, was the single green sprout of a cothinar flower. Poor in appearance, it had layers of dirt on it. It drooped and looked as if it were staring at the ground. There were other flowers around it, yes, but none near it. Alone and sad, the unhealthy bud looked about ready to waste away.

Subjected to hours and days, weeks of endless torturous teasing from the other blossoms, the young sprout didn't know if it could take much more of this pain and suffering. It prayed for deliverance.


A lilting, lofty voice was resonating throughout the forest. The blooms stopped their jabbering, standing tall and silent to listen. The sprout even dared to look up, seizing its moment of peace. The other flowers whispered amongst themselves while the bud silently swayed from side to side.

The voice grew closer yet they heard no clumsy loud footsteps, which are usually accompanied by the humans who sometimes wander through.

A maiden with pointed ears stepped into view then, singing softly to herself; revealing to the plants that it was she who possessed the voice that they had been hearing.


With a sigh, the sprightly girl stopped her song, bowing her head in silent tribute to whatever or whoever it was that she had been remembering. When she lifted her head she was smiling, taking in the ambiance. As she stepped into the garden, oddly enough, she began speaking to the flowers. Every so often she would tilt her head to the side as if awaiting a response. Arms folded over her chest, she frowned, looking slightly confused.

She shrugged, and happily traipsed and danced about the flowers, managing to never step on one. Eventually tired, she found a spot that was a bit clearer in the garden and lay down for a rest. Her eyes were closed for many hours. The sun had set and still she rested, blissfully, the flowers whispering to themselves.

"How blessed I am to stumble upon such an enchanting site," she murmured to herself.

"I don't know about that.." said a soft voice into her ear.

"Oh! And why is that?" With that she stirred, sitting up, her eyes resting upon that small, poor sprout.

"It's not very friendly, around here," said the sprout in a nervous tone. A whisper of wind fluttered the petals of the flowers.

"I should think not. However, you seem to be friendly enough. You're the only one who's apparently willing to speak to me.." The girl glanced about.

"They don't like me very much around here, because it's taking me -so long- to become a flower.." began the sprout, and told of his mistreatment. As he spoke the girl wiped the dirt that was caked on away, and gave him fresh water.


The maiden shook her head, unable to respond. Identifying, she felt and recognized the pain in her heart, and wished she could do something to help this young one. Still unable to speak, she decided an action would do, to show her feelings. She bent to give the seedling a gentle kiss.


As a tear from the seedling, and a tear from the sylph joined, the bud began to grow. It blossomed into a delicate cothinar flower, radiant in color and dazzling with beauty. With that, the garden suddenly vanished with the twinkling of an evening star.

She blinked in surprise, wiping away her tears as she looked around. Her shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh, and she gazed out into the dark. Her gaze came to rest upon a single bright entity in the field of the night sky. A smile played on her lips as she was bathed in a warm glow, and she knew she would never forget her friend, the late bloomer.