Here is part one of my latest short story, Passion Flower. Time has been a little tight this week, so I’ll post part two next week. 🙂
By Catherine Mesick
Samantha loved the fact that she had a flower shop just down the street. She would often stop in on the way to work in the morning, and on the weekends she would drop in for a longer browse.
Samantha loved flowers, and she was always looking out for something new and exotic.
One Saturday, Samantha stepped into the shop and began to look around. She was admiring some lilies in pink, white, and orange when something bright caught her eye. It was a single flower in a pot with deep pink—almost red—petals and striped tendrils of white and purple growing from its center. And in the center, too, were feathery white tendrils that surrounded several green structures—pistils or stamens? Samantha wasn’t sure of the terms. But she did know that she wanted that flower.
She scooped it up and then read the card that rested in its soil: Passion Flower, Pura Vida Red.
Samantha walked up to the sales counter with her flower, and soon after, she exited the shop with her new purchase.
She began to walk toward her apartment—the flower would look lovely on her coffee table.
She had not gone far when she found someone walking beside her.
Samantha looked up to see a man—young, dark-haired, handsome—matching her step for step.
“I beg your pardon,” the young man said.
“Yes?” Samantha replied.
“It’s just that the shop sold you that flower by mistake,” the young man said. “It was meant for me.”
“Oh!” Samantha stopped. “Did you special order it?”
“No,” the man said.
“Did you reserve it some other way?”
Samantha began to feel suspicious. “Then how is the flower meant for you?”
The young man looked uncomfortable. “It just is.”
Samantha began to walk again.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I don’t believe you. You’ll just have to wait until the shop orders another passion flower.”
The man followed her. “I need that one.”
Samantha did not dignify that with a response. She continued to walk to her apartment, and the man continued to follow her.
When she reached her building, she turned and fixed him with a stare.
“I am going into my apartment now,” Samantha said. “If you follow me in, I will walk straight to the security desk and call the police.”
The man took a step back and then began to walk away down the street.
Samantha went into her building and shut the door firmly behind her.
Later that evening, Samantha sat on her couch, sipping a cup of tea and admiring her flower. She was glad she’d purchased it—it truly was special. As she gazed at it, the air around it seemed to shimmer just a bit, and she thought she saw the deep pink petals glow.
Samantha blinked and looked again—the flower suddenly looked normal again.
She rubbed her eyes and decided to go to bed early—she must have been working too hard this past week.
She finished her tea and turned out the lights.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, Samantha heard a sound, and she started awake. She sat up in bed, and she listened.
Someone was walking around in her apartment.
Samantha picked up an empty vase that was sitting next to her bed and tiptoed out of her bedroom.
She walked down the short hall to her living room and peered around the corner.
Silhouetted against the open window was the tall figure of a man, and he was lifting up her potted flower.
Samantha had a pretty good idea who it was.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said to herself.
She reached along the wall and switched on the light.
The overhead light sprang to life, and the intruder was illuminated.
It was the man who followed her home.
(Part 2 is in the next blog post. Click here to read.)
Thanks very much for reading!
And stop by some time and hi on Facebook. 🙂