Flash Fiction: The Flower, Alive

by Chris McGinty

The flower was alive now and it took in the sunlight. If it had been sentient it would not have realized the moment that it came into being. It would not know the moment that it faded out. It would live its life in the sunlight. It would live through wind and rain. It might see a crazier storm. A tornado. A flood. Anything might happen.

It could live forever. It could die the next moment from a lover picking it, or by the blade of a mower. Anything could happen. Perhaps it would cross pollinate. Perhaps it would create new generations. Perhaps there would be a fire and it would be consumed as the last of its line. It would never be aware of any of this. It was a flower. It knew enough to survive. There was no tragedy when death finally came.

It would never know that there were humans who wished they too could turn off the hopes and fears and just exist. Life would be about sunlight and water and existing for the sake of existing. There would be no ambition, no disappointment. There would be no love, no heartache. There would be no joy of life, no fear of death. There would just be a moment of coming into existence, existence, and the moment of death.

The flower was alive now. It’s life was breathed into it by sunlight. It would never know, yesterday, today, tomorrow.

Chris McGinty is a flash fiction writer who is not having an existential crisis. He’s just fine, ok?

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