For a week, I had watched my little plant miraculously grow from nothing to a beautiful pinkish tan bud, and when it looked ready to open, I was estatic. The slightly tarnished vase was sitting on my bed, moved from it's usual place by the windowsill, and I lay beside it, staring at the flower-to-be. I stroked it softly, the silky petals flowing easily under my fingers. "You'll be a beautiful flower when you bloom," I said softly.
It was then that the bud began to glow with a pale light - and to say that I was surprised was a definite understatement. Shielding my eyes with a hand, I watched the bud begin to open, but soon the light became too much and I closed my eyes to keep from being blinded. It was only a moment before I cautiously peeked at the bud again - the light was gone, and the flower had bloomed...but there was something inside the flower. Something moving.
I sat up abruptly and peered into the flower, excitement flowing rapidly in my veins. Nestled inside the flower, fast asleep, was a little child. It was a boy, blond-haired, with delicate and almost elven features. Several of the flower's petals covered him like a blanket. "What are you?" I murmered in shock.
The child stirred, then sat up and started to rub the sleep from his eyes. When he gazed up at me, a small smile on his face, I could see that his eyes were a soft shade of green. His smile was as soft as his eyes. "Tovas," he said.
"Is that your name? Or what you are?"
"Name," he said. Looking up at me with a slightly quizzical look, he asked, "Yours?"
I blinked. "My name...my name is Zarmina. I'm pleased to meet you, Tovas."
The response came in the form of another smile.
The child drifted off to sleep again within moments, serenely curled up within the petals, and leaving me utterly baffled and still disbelieving. There was a child not even the length of my thumb sleeping not twelve inches from me. I didn't trust myself to move the vase without disturbing the child when I was this dazed, so I simply remained half-sprawled across the mattress and staring at the figure nestled in the center of the flower. That was when the debate started.
There is a strong scientist side to me, and it was fully riled up by now. The first mental scientist was shouting that there was no way that this was possible, and that this was all a figment of my imagination. He then proceeded into a full, almost pre-prepared speech on the scientific evidence against it. The other scientist, irritating fellow that he is, was ranting something about research and discoveries. I shut them both up as quickly as I could. It was amazing how much my own mind could ashame me at times...
The other side of the debate came into the picture about then, making it's points with the soft, forceful slowness of someone convincing another that the speaker's point of view needs to be adopted. "Who cares about the science of this? This is a child. A sweet, adorable little child. That woman knew what this flower would grow into, and she entrusted it to you for a reason. 'Accept whatever blooms', she said, remember? This is what bloomed. It is like you are bonded to it, and it to you."
The scientists tried to make a comeback, but they didn't even get past the first few words when I shook my head forcefully. "No," I said firmly, a little surprised when the response came out aloud. "...no," I repeated softly, and more gently. I couldn't let myself wake up the child...no, not child, he had a name. "Tovas," I whispered to the sleeping boy as I smiled. It was then that I carefully lifted the vase back into the windowsill, lowering the shade a bit so the light wouldn't wake him up.
I simply stood there, watching him sleep, for nearly an hour. It was only when I noticed the setting sun behind him that I realized how much time had gone by. "Sleep well, little Tovas," I whispered to him, before disappearing out the door.
The child drifted off to sleep again within moments, serenely curled up within the petals, and leaving me utterly baffled and still disbelieving. There was a child not even the length of my thumb sleeping not twelve inches from me. I didn't trust myself to move the vase without disturbing the child when I was this dazed, so I simply remained half-sprawled across the mattress and staring at the figure nestled in the center of the flower. That was when the debate started.
There is a strong scientist side to me, and it was fully riled up by now. The first mental scientist was shouting that there was no way that this was possible, and that this was all a figment of my imagination. He then proceeded into a full, almost pre-prepared speech on the scientific evidence against it. The other scientist, irritating fellow that he is, was ranting something about research and discoveries. I shut them both up as quickly as I could. It was amazing how much my own mind could ashame me at times...
The other side of the debate came into the picture about then, making it's points with the soft, forceful slowness of someone convincing another that the speaker's point of view needs to be adopted. "Who cares about the science of this? This is a child. A sweet, adorable little child. That woman knew what this flower would grow into, and she entrusted it to you for a reason. 'Accept whatever blooms', she said, remember? This is what bloomed. It is like you are bonded to it, and it to you."
The scientists tried to make a comeback, but they didn't even get past the first few words when I shook my head forcefully. "No," I said firmly, a little surprised when the response came out aloud. "...no," I repeated softly, and more gently. I couldn't let myself wake up the child...no, not child, he had a name. "Tovas," I whispered to the sleeping boy as I smiled. It was then that I carefully lifted the vase back into the windowsill, lowering the shade a bit so the light wouldn't wake him up.
I simply stood there, watching him sleep, for nearly an hour. It was only when I noticed the setting sun behind him that I realized how much time had gone by. "Sleep well, little Tovas," I whispered to him, before disappearing out the door.
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