Sunflower Fields

I lay transfixed, in a field of flowers. The brilliant yellow skyscrapers were dwarfed by the endless ocean of blue. Feeling the cool breeze over my lips, I felt a rush of freedom and sighed contently. Even with the breeze, the warmth of the sun reached me and it wrapped me in its calmness. I could smell of the freshness of the air and the dampness of the soil beneath me that soaked my dress.

Alone, not a soul for miles, and I couldn't feel any more at peace.

When I heard the faint calling in the distance, I bolted up brushing the faint traces of tawny brown soil off of my short black dress. I should have known this contentment was ephemeral, like a lithe butterfly landing softly on a flower for a moment before taking off for another destination.

I ran away from an inevitable end, better that then watch in heartbreak. It may seem selfish but I can’t stand the stillness, the lack of life. My best friend is somewhere laying in coffin dead and I can’t even muster the courage to go to his funeral.

Then again, why would I want to attend what is little more than a show of how generous and charitable my parents are. I’ve been avoided them since the accident but I can imagine them crying and mourning the little orphan boy they took in, who they claim to have treated as a son but put to work like a common servant. They may reference the bond we shared, that we were siblings bound by a bond that surpassed blood and social class.

They were right about our undeniable bond, even they begrudgingly admitted it, but there was nothing familial in our relationship. He was my boyfriend, my first and only love, my best friend, and possibly the only person who didn’t act like I was a disappointment. He just accepted what was there.

The voice grew more...

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...es of the simple and beautiful boy I loved left his eyes.

This, sitting in our favorite sunflower fields and thinking of him, was the funeral he would have wanted, so I smiled and told him: “I love you Cyrus.”

“Ellie!” the once faint voice was now close enough that I could recognize it.

“Cyrus, is that you?” I called back and after the rustling of stalks, he was right there in front of me, looking as alive as the day he died.

I ran, throwing my arms around him and holding him as if my life depended on it. I inhaled the smell of fragrant flowers that clung to him, I was more than just content, I was happy because we were reunited. One question, however, plagued my mind and I felt myself compelled to ask him.

Breathless, I whispered in his ear, “I thought you had died”.

He pulled away for a moment, confusion evident in his eyes, “Ellie, I’m not the one that was shot”.