I MISS THE

BY DIVYA VENKATARAMAN

Catherine opens her eyes to a dull, gray sky. A baby shrieks somewhere above her. The once pristine ocean is now a murky green — each current a new, tortured face screaming in silence. The sunset glow is left unseen, replaced by a thick, black and unnerving veil that disgusts Catherine.

Catherine is cold.

“I miss the flowers, the beautiful flowers,” rasps Catherine. “The sweet scent that would bathe me in warmth is gone — it’s all gone.” She holds back her tears; she must baby’s shrieks come to a halt. The curious baby gazes down from his place in the only tree left. The baby sees Catherine’s strife — sees it as an opportunity to fulfill his plan, to do what made him come to this wretched area in the first place.

“The ocean was as clear as a crystal, the corals shining through and coloring the water like stained glass. Similar colors were reflected in the pretty sky, a bewitching rainbow seen by these very eyes. The trees and hills, flourishing and lively, decorated with assortments of fruits like you would beautiful, colorful flowers — fulfilling my Enamored by her words and

Catherine laughs and opens her palm — the baby perches on her continues her song; the beautiful, they were pretty. You could hear the ocean’s melodies and the plant’s songs. There were plains littered with flowers — poppies, marigolds, tulips, alliums and dandelions. Now, all we have is this single rose.”

Catherine’s eyelids droop and she slowly closes her eyes.

The baby grins.

The baby strides over to the single rose. He slowly takes his hands and tears a limb off of the rose to drink the Ambrosia hidden within. The slight rip can be heard in the night, soon accompanied by a hysterical shriek from the overjoyed baby. His body starts to glow in the darkness of the night — lit by the Ambrosia’s power.

Catherine begins to wake.

The ecstatic baby urgently tears more and more limbs of the rose. The fallen limbs of the rose give the delicious and powerful Ambrosia — the drink of the gods that turns the drinker immortal. The nectar’s glow glints in the night, sparkling in the dark. The baby shrieks once again while frantically slurping the Ambrosia.

The final, fallen rose limb brings Catherine out of her drugged daze. She opens her eyes and is met with a single plant — her rose — with only one lone limb attached to the stem. fright. What does the baby think he is doing? you were different!” hurriedly tears once more and Catherine tries to stop him — but not before the baby’s hand brutally tears the last limb of the rose plant, not before the rose plant wilts. frail mother collapses. for my mother, my weak mother. Oh, what are we going to do now?”

Catherine stops and stares at the baby; she notices the Ambrosia glowing inside his stomach and she — she finally can think enough to understand. After all, it has happened before, has it not? The greed for immortality from the younger generation.

In a matter of a few seconds, Catherine can no longer sense her mother’s heartbeat — and she finally lets herself cry heavy tears. Oblivious to her pain, the baby begins to dig his nails into Catherine’s skin as she sobs in pain and grief — blinded by his greed. His claws rip at her flesh, skin tearing and blood flowing from the scratches.

The baby reaches Catherine’s heart and is gleefully surprised.

Catherine’s heart is a bouquet of flowers! The baby makes a big, euphoric and inhumane sound. Catherine cowers. The baby flings himself closer to Catherine’s body and begins digging into her flesh, shrieking in glee. Desperate to collect all the flowers, the baby scratches and scratches at her body — all while staring at the wailing, bloody Catherine and her dead mother with pride and ego displayed all over his face. Catherine wails in agony.

“What are you thinking? Oh, humanity’s materialistic desires will be the death of

The baby jumps at her, clawing through her flesh. There, he finally collects the last, ironically placed, rose in the center of Catherine’s black — dirtier than ever before — with ripples of agony and fear permanently stained on the surface. The air is filled with even more black — both smoke and shadows filling any space.

Catherine and her mother are nowhere to be found. Instead, a baby takes their place — covered in blood and wilted flowers — only a single rose left untouched. The baby grows old as time the baby will steal his flowers and grow old, only then understanding the horror of greed. He knows the cycle will continue.

He realizes his mistake — far too late.

And so, he sings the song he once heard Catherine sing, paying homage to his regrets and society’s downfall.

“I miss the flowers.”