Peters Second Box

Peters First box HERE -[link]


Peters second box



I never knew her name.

I first saw her in late spring, walking through the park with the cherry blossom falling around her.
I followed her home that day, watched her go to her local shop and buy one can of beans, one loaf of bread, one pint of milk, and I knew she was alone. But she so was beautiful. Why she was alone was beyond understanding.. she had a visage I had only seen on statues, sculpted perfection, eyes of the clearest green, dark flowing hair, skin of creamy white.. to look upon her made me ache with longing, but I knew that I had work to do, and the tools would not leave me alone. I would be awakened in the night by their incessant clicking, their urgent insistence that they show this beauty just how beautiful life could be before the inevitable end that waits for us all, and I could not deny them.

So it was that I followed her again that day, through the park of falling blossom, to wait for the moment when the quiet was absolute, the children’s noise a faint background, and then the tools would teach her what true happiness could be...

She screamed her pleasure at their touch, screamed until the breath was gone and all there was, was the blood and the bone.
The tools stripped her then, took everything that remained until all that was left was the hard gleaming centre of us all, and I buried it amongst the blossom in the dead of night.

It was not until years later and the dreams given to me by the ancient ones that I understood her true purpose.. my inspiration.
My creation would encompass her – the blossom I had first seen her wander amongst, the bare gleaming bone she had become, and I would name it the name I had given her on that first day.

“Petal”