Blue Mirror: NCSSM’s journal of art and literature

A faint grey light shone down over the overgrown field beside Olson’s Hill, long since abandoned by the owner. It was an early morn of October, and tiny crystals adorned each blade of grass and weed. The first frost, a signal to man, beast, and flower of the ever present threat of winter. All that lived bowed in submission to its power. All, save one form, it seemed on that dawning day, for, at the top of the hill, from within the mass of withering grasses, bloomed a flower so magnificent in breadth and elegance, it shamed the feeble buds struggling to survive the frost. Not a crystal, not a fleck of ice had touched the cream colored petals or the graceful stalk. With its petioles, it smiled up to the dull sky, challenging the climate which had bested so many others.

Now, at this moment, a chipmunk poked his head up from beneath the leaves that acted as his home on the base of the hill. As he peered about, wary of the predators who might be watching, he caught a glimpse of the flower, standing out against the patterns of red and brown. In his amazement, he stepped forth, the ground crackling barely from his slight weight. What could this flower be thinking? Wasn’t the first frost a warning against such foolish excursions? But, in his skeptic thoughts, he began to wonder at where the blossom had come from. It could not have been there long for, as far as the chipmunk knew, it had not sat on the hill yesterday. Surely, he thought, a bloom of such a large and beautiful nature could not grow in just a night’s time. When he reached the peak of the hill, he settled on his haunches to gaze at the flower. It towered ten inches above the chipmunk’s head, leaving him awestruck as he sat.

By this time, additional inhabitants of the field and its few surrounding trees were waking to find the ground icy and the sky grey. One, a hummingbird, stretched out his chest then extended his wings. Flitting from his nest, he passed above the hill and the flower, beside which the chipmunk still sat. Curious as to what could have captivated the attention of such an easily distracted rodent, he zipped down to hover near him. In sudden amazement, the hummingbird, having never done so before, landed on the ground to join the chipmunk in his marveling.

Soon, quite an assortment of creatures had gathered around the flower, each one fully absorbed in the splendor of the huge, sublime bloom that defied the coming of the frost. Among the group were a rabbit, a rat, and a mocking bird, although he remained separated, perched in a dying oak tree. At last, the silence was broken by the rat, always known to be the most outspoken of the faction.

“Whachu think we otta do wit it?” he inquired of the others.

Three different replies rang out from the different animals, each claiming that there was some use for this flower that would surely die in the next cold snap.

“The petals would be perfect to smooth out the roughness of my nest,” exclaimed the chipmunk.

“We should leave it living, so that I can drink its nectar until it is dry,” the hummingbird chattered.

“Let me eat it!” protested the rabbit, mouth watering at the thought. “Its stem and leaves look sweet and luscious.”

They broke out immediately into argument over who should have the flower. The rat stood alongside the chipmunk in hopes of splitting the prize with his fellow rodent, while hummingbird had lifted back off the ground to bob furiously above the others. In an attempt to take advantage of the others’ inattention, the rabbit lunged for the stalk of the bloom. She was cut off by the rat, who sunk his teeth deep into her left ear. She cried out in pain and swung her muscular back legs around to knock the rat onto his back. Beside them, the chipmunk and the hummingbird were violently exchanging curses. With sudden vehemence, the hummingbird swooped down, jabbing his long, sharp beak into the shoulder of the chipmunk who retaliated by grasping his wing in his mouth and breaking it with his large front teeth. They all fell in anguish at the foot of the flower, bleeding and surging with acrimony.

Yet, something began to happen which quelled their anger, replacing it with confusion and fascination. The blood that was dripping upon the ground had soaked into the soil, and the flower had begun to wilt. The frost that continued to litter the ground was now creeping up the stalk, turning it from vibrant green to brown. Four petals dropped from the bloom, each one falling on one of the four broken creatures. At the touch of the soft, silky leaves the wounds on the animals’ bodies healed. In astonishment, the hummingbird rose with an uninjured wing to float above the scene, the chipmunk, no longer bleeding, stared towards the floret, the rabbit flipped forward her ear to examine where the gash had been, and the rat, his back not broken, sat up. The flower was completely dead now, as brown and brittle as the leaves of the nearby trees. A slight breeze ruffled it and the remaining petals and leaves landed on the still icy grass below.

With an unsettling feeling inside, the animals turned from the depressing sight, ashamed of their behavior. Avoiding each other’s eyes, they headed back to their nests and hollows.

Overhead the sky remained grey, a reflection of the souls departing Olson's Hill. The lone mockingbird came into view; he had seen the entire affair and was quite disconcerted. He ruffled his feathers, picked at the ground near the flower, and sounded his epitaph.