Red Petals - An original short story

Hello, lovelies! Embrace spring with a flower-fabulous piece of short fiction from GL reader Sabrina B., 17. Don't forget to tell us what you think in the comments!

Red Petals

The wind whipped through the trees, carrying a breeze which sifted through the grass. Shades of green covered the landscape, engulfing every hill and slope, coated by a cover of dew. One flower, one lone flower stood against the backdrop, it's vibrantly red petals beckoning a traveler or romantic who may pass by. It bent in the wind, but didn't let go of any of its precious maroon markers, already gaining back its structure and keeping straight. Little furry balls bounced around it, nibbling on the flower's cousins, munching and crunching with full cheeks.
Thundering, rhythmic, steps grew more intense, a large pair of black boots stopping in front of it. A calloused hand reached down and plucked the flower, raising it up. The sky was blue, and there were no clouds, just light from the sun and a faint moon across from it. Another gust of wind rocked the petals, and the large hand covered the delicate plant, shielding it. He twirled it between his fingers, a blur of red spinning to the right, and then a blur to the left.
He carefully placed it in his bag, on the top so it wouldn't get smushed. The flower was now dark, bouncing up and down with each footstep. It hit against a wallet, some keys and a book. The motion stopped, the flower falling between the pages of the novel. It was still, and still so dark.
The pattern continued, changing from bouncing to stillness, all the while with the plant now guarded by the words on the page.
Finally, light flooded into the bag, a streak of it reaching the flower through two cracked open pages. The hand reached down, slowly and carefully, plucking up the delicate red beauty once again. He seemed more nervous, hand sweaty and shaking as he held the flower, stretching out his arm as if presenting it to someone.
Another pair of hands closed around the stem, receiving the gift. These hands were much gentler than the first ones, long thin fingers holding it in place and lifting up the small petals. She lifted it up, the sky now dark and the moon bright in the sky, other little specs of light trying to compete with it. The flower was tucked into her hair, in one of the crevices of her complicated braids, able to see all that she saw.
A light wind passed through once again, only tickling the little red flower as it was safely tucked away from harm.
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by GL Reader | 2/1/2016
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