Withered Garden

You fetch some water from the well and pour it into the soil. The water forms a pool around the flower. The dirt, despite having been parched for so long, refuses to drink the water. Pouring more water won’t help as you will just flood the box and too much water may just break the fragile steam of the flower. With no other choice, you wait. You close your eyes to rest. When you open them again, you see that the water has finally been absorbed into the soil. You pour some more water into the soil and it sinks in with no problem.

...

You repeat several trips to the well and back, depositing the water into the box until the soil feels damp enough. On your last trip back, you notice the flower shiver a little which causes you to drop the bucket in surprise. The water splashes all over the floor and wets your shoes but you do not care. Your focus is entirely on the flower in front of you. Since when can flowers move like that? You keep your distance and observe the flower to see what is going on. One by one, the petals open up until the flower is in full bloom. A powerful sweet scent overtakes the smell of death in the air and you feel yourself feeling lightheaded just breathing it in. You cover your nose with your sleeve and use it as a filter to mask out the smell a little. Instantly, you feel your senses return to you.

...

You tread carefully to the flower and take a closer look at it. The flower itself does not look like anything special. It has a pale blue color on the inside. The only thing distinct about the flower is its aroma. On one of the inner petals of the flower is a marking that does not look natural. You squint your eyes. It is a number. It is not natural either. Someone seems to have taken something incredibly thin and sharp, perhaps a needle and scratched that in the petal. You take note of the number and quickly turn to back away from the flower as the smell starts to overwhelm you and make you feel lightheaded again.