I get lost in Pluto’s remaining
eye; not the planet, but the red-eyed black cat a friend crafted out of a story
by Poe. I stare until my pain blurs the feline’s smirk. Still, my mind can’t
ignore what the Cecilios are cooking for dinner—wild dandelion greens with
vinegar and garlic, by the sour smell and weediness of the flowers’ screams.
The Cecilios are good people.
They took me in, and treat me well, after so many other foster families had
used faith and fist to beat their demons out of me. I just wish they could
sense the dandelions’ suffering.
I close my eyes, take deep
breaths, and begin building a stone wall between my facial expressions and the
flower’s hurt. I dislike dulling my perception of their feelings—if they have
to endure the agony, the least I can do is acknowledge it—but if the Cecilios
think me mad, they’ll throw me out before I can offer any help to anyone.
When my wall feels sturdy
enough, I walk back to the Cecilio’s home, thinking, Rest in peace, little
sisters, I promise I to find a way to reclaim your spirit.
I stumble when I reach the
Cecilio’s kitchen. My wall cracks under a wave of phantom heat, and the garden
of terrifyingly hopeful voices that whispers through.
hear you, big sister,
dreams and blooms burned in their dark
will sprout in your light.”
So well done, Magaly, draws the reader in... especially liked "sour smell and weediness of the flowers’ screams"ReplyDelete
I absolutely love this magical, intriguing piece, and hope it is part of something much bigger which I may get to read.ReplyDelete
Oh, I love this! Will we get more of this character?ReplyDelete
I was wondering when the alternate viewpoint was going to show. You Haibunned it in there beautifully. Thanks for sharing.ReplyDelete
I absolutely love this "if they have to endure the agony, the least I can do is acknowledge it" the amount of empathy built up in the write, and then the crumbling of the wall as it all comes crashing in.ReplyDelete
You grabbed me with these compelling lines -- "the sour smell and weediness of the flowers’ screams" and "used faith and fist to beat their demons out of me." And I love that malevolent looking one-eyed kitty!ReplyDelete
You are a brilliant writer. The words that create life into a sentence. It takes a talented soul to do that. Much love.ReplyDelete
This is fantastic
Very beautiful and intriguing.ReplyDelete
Keen ears and a great heart--the better to hear the suffering of the dandelions, and then to take action.ReplyDelete
I am enchanted by this haibun story. It's got all the uncanny feel of a Magaly classic. So of course, I wouldn't complain if you expanded upon it at some point. But it's seriously good as is.ReplyDelete
I can see which viewpoint has your wtiter's favor, which one got all the press? I know the beautiful dandelion would rather have the little eaten than the flowers. This was a nice piece of prose, I like the viewpoint of the foster child.ReplyDelete
Goodness, this certainly pulled me in :)ReplyDelete
All the best Jan
Very much enjoyed the perspective of an empath who has to hide her abilities because of her precarious situation. The ability of two-way communication with other life forms is most excellent. This really stood out for me: "so many other foster families had used faith and fist to beat their demons out of me." Also like the way you ended it.ReplyDelete
This is so psychological, magical and terrifying at the same time. The use of a haibun to provide two points of view is a master stroke. :)ReplyDelete
That was quite chilling. The cries of the weeds, and the smirk of the cat. So wonderful!ReplyDelete
Quite brilliant, Magaly!!! To sense the dandelion's suffering ... to have that kind of empathy. I had chills reading this.ReplyDelete
Do other plant-based foods scream too, or only dandelions?ReplyDelete
I like to graze on dandelions in spring. Native "weed" plants have been a big part of my diet since about 2014. They're so full of nutrients, it's easy to eat too many. One dandelion leaf tastes interesting. A handful would be bitter and nasty.
I can't imagine anyone eating the flowers or their stalks, though some people used to brew wine from the flower heads...
"I close my eyes, take deep breaths, and begin building a stone wall between my facial expressions and the flower’s hurt. I dislike dulling my perception of their feelings—if they have to endure the agony, the least I can do is acknowledge it-"ReplyDelete
Excellent writing, Magaly!