On the Importance of Flowers

“You're trying to book-drown a ghost,” the calico cat remarked. “That's not how you get rid of ghosts.”

The girl stopped what she was doing and let go of the tome she had been using for the incantation. They both watched in silence as the heavy volume turned to silver dust. 

“One of Sir Terry's?” the cat asked.

The girl nodded and picked herself up, casually reassembling her scattered ego. 

She followed the cat home through the winding path that led away from the river.

The sun was almost setting now. Poodle Moths were coming out of iridescent #rifts on naked trees. They fluttered around, calling her their lighthouse with fluffy voices.

The girl ignored them as she absentmindedly stepped on every flower that had not hidden its petals yet.

“It's not their fault,” the cat remarked.

“Why are some flowers more important than others?” the girl asked, stopping just as they were about to enter their lichen-stained stone cottage.

The cat shrugged. “They’re not.”

"Not important?”

“Flowers.”

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137.1 redux | #vss365 #rift | #myphoto