Reil could imagine the flowers being gently caressed by the cold night breeze, moving back and forth in the most carefree manner. The moonlight gave the Reine de la Noche, the "Queen of the Night," a beautiful glow - a whole field of it bathed in other-worldly light. They only bloomed at night and normally only for one night. Reil had thought himself extremely lucky to see them while passing originally, but after coming back each night, the flowers never died. His mother would have fallen in love, maybe even called it a miracle from God. He could almost hear her laughter, see her smile. God, he missed her smile.
"I'm sorry," he thought to himself. "Ten years. It took me ten years."
Each step forward through the last of the thicket was like a marathon. Each lift of the knee felt like a desperate task. But it was clearing, and he was starting to smell them - the flowers, beckoning him forward. His drive barely kept the pain from overtaking him. It was the middle of the night but brightly lit by the moon. Navigating wasn't hard; Reil knew the path well. He just didn't expect to be walking it with two bullets in his stomach.
"They lied to me. Said it was a sickness. Maybe it was a sickness, but it wasn't you that was sick. Ten years I worked for them. Barely better than a slave. Ten years I wasted. Don't ask questions - don't be a stupid brat - none of your business. Just more bullshit fed to me straight from the devil himself." His words shaken by pain and the heavy landing of each foot.
Stopping at a particularly large tree, Reil caught his breath, leaning his shoulder into the rough bark as he let out a deep,aching sigh. Each inhale was laboured, drawing the cold night air into his lungs. With a shaking hand, he opened his jacket. Blood. His undershirt was soaked with an expanding dark red stain . No coming back from this - he had long since accepted that.
The scent of the flowers reached him, bittersweet and haunting. "These damn flowers," he muttered, their delicate petals stirring memories of his mother. They made him question everything, made him feel like a helpless child again
It was here, in fact, he was to make his peace. Here among the Reine de la Noche. It seemed the best place. Let this ugly thing at least die among beauty and peace. Let him have at least something.
Lurching up off the tree with a grunt of pain and leaving a single bloody handprint, Reil began the last of the journey. He had made it out of the tree line and onto the edges of the flower field. It was located in a small valley within eyeshot of a nearby cattle trail he and his gang had found. It was just supposed to be a shortcut to the next town, not the catalyst for all this.
It must have been close to 4 a.m. by this point. The sun would be coming up soon. Reil wondered if he'd live to even see the sunrise but quickly dismissed the thought. A million sunrises couldn't compare. Heavy-footed, he entered the field. Everywhere, bright white flowers with petals as delicate as silk seemed to float above the ground, their ghostly beauty reminiscent of a bride's gown. Reil couldn't help but think they looked like a wedding dress, pristine and untouched.
His foot caught a rock. He stumbled. Pain shot through his body. His knees gave out, and he started to fall. Thankfully, he caughthimself in time and only fell to his knees. He could feel the blood leaving his body at this point, the life leaving him. He looked up to find one Queen of the Night right in front of him, dancing in the cold breeze.
"I'm sorry, Ma. I'm so sorry. If I wasn't a coward back then, I'd have kept asking and... I'd..."
It was pointless. She's not here to forgive him. It's just him, alone. The weight of the world began to crush him. All his mistakes, all his failures, all his poor decisions culminating in this - dying alone in a field, with no one to miss or even remember him.
It was then that the breeze stopped. The flower elegantly stopped its swaying and faced directly at Reil. It took the words out of his mouth, and he just watched it, examining it for... he didn't even know. Anything. The pain was ever present in the back of his mind.
He reached down with his left hand to touch the flower when the breeze began again, pushing it towards him. Gently running down his fingers. Like the finest silk. Weightless. It continued to the palm of his hand and stopped. Gently Reil wrapped his fingers around the precious thing. His mother used to hold his hand when he cried just like this. Gentle and supportive.
Reil broke out in tears, making sure to never apply pressure to the fragile little thing. He could almost hear his mother's voice:
"It's okay, Ree."
"I'm sorry," he thought to himself. "Ten years. It took me ten years."
Each step forward through the last of the thicket was like a marathon. Each lift of the knee felt like a desperate task. But it was clearing, and he was starting to smell them - the flowers, beckoning him forward. His drive barely kept the pain from overtaking him. It was the middle of the night but brightly lit by the moon. Navigating wasn't hard; Reil knew the path well. He just didn't expect to be walking it with two bullets in his stomach.
"They lied to me. Said it was a sickness. Maybe it was a sickness, but it wasn't you that was sick. Ten years I worked for them. Barely better than a slave. Ten years I wasted. Don't ask questions - don't be a stupid brat - none of your business. Just more bullshit fed to me straight from the devil himself." His words shaken by pain and the heavy landing of each foot.
Stopping at a particularly large tree, Reil caught his breath, leaning his shoulder into the rough bark as he let out a deep,aching sigh. Each inhale was laboured, drawing the cold night air into his lungs. With a shaking hand, he opened his jacket. Blood. His undershirt was soaked with an expanding dark red stain . No coming back from this - he had long since accepted that.
The scent of the flowers reached him, bittersweet and haunting. "These damn flowers," he muttered, their delicate petals stirring memories of his mother. They made him question everything, made him feel like a helpless child again
It was here, in fact, he was to make his peace. Here among the Reine de la Noche. It seemed the best place. Let this ugly thing at least die among beauty and peace. Let him have at least something.
Lurching up off the tree with a grunt of pain and leaving a single bloody handprint, Reil began the last of the journey. He had made it out of the tree line and onto the edges of the flower field. It was located in a small valley within eyeshot of a nearby cattle trail he and his gang had found. It was just supposed to be a shortcut to the next town, not the catalyst for all this.
It must have been close to 4 a.m. by this point. The sun would be coming up soon. Reil wondered if he'd live to even see the sunrise but quickly dismissed the thought. A million sunrises couldn't compare. Heavy-footed, he entered the field. Everywhere, bright white flowers with petals as delicate as silk seemed to float above the ground, their ghostly beauty reminiscent of a bride's gown. Reil couldn't help but think they looked like a wedding dress, pristine and untouched.
His foot caught a rock. He stumbled. Pain shot through his body. His knees gave out, and he started to fall. Thankfully, he caughthimself in time and only fell to his knees. He could feel the blood leaving his body at this point, the life leaving him. He looked up to find one Queen of the Night right in front of him, dancing in the cold breeze.
"I'm sorry, Ma. I'm so sorry. If I wasn't a coward back then, I'd have kept asking and... I'd..."
It was pointless. She's not here to forgive him. It's just him, alone. The weight of the world began to crush him. All his mistakes, all his failures, all his poor decisions culminating in this - dying alone in a field, with no one to miss or even remember him.
It was then that the breeze stopped. The flower elegantly stopped its swaying and faced directly at Reil. It took the words out of his mouth, and he just watched it, examining it for... he didn't even know. Anything. The pain was ever present in the back of his mind.
He reached down with his left hand to touch the flower when the breeze began again, pushing it towards him. Gently running down his fingers. Like the finest silk. Weightless. It continued to the palm of his hand and stopped. Gently Reil wrapped his fingers around the precious thing. His mother used to hold his hand when he cried just like this. Gentle and supportive.
Reil broke out in tears, making sure to never apply pressure to the fragile little thing. He could almost hear his mother's voice:
"It's okay, Ree."
Support Sixth
