Passion Flower, Part 2 — New Short Story

Here is part two of Passion Flower. Once again, I’m running a little short on time, so I’ll have to post part three next week. 🙂 If you haven’t read part one, you can find it here.

Passion Flower, Part 2

Samantha dropped her vase on the sofa and rounded the coffee table quickly.

She grabbed onto the potted plant.

“You have some nerve,” she said, trying to wrest the flowerpot from the man’s hands.

The man held onto the pot firmly. “I need this flower. I’m perfectly happy to buy you another one. But I need this one.”

“You’re crazy,” Samantha said. “As soon as I get my flower back, I’m calling the police.”

“The police can’t help.”

“Threats will get you nowhere,” Samantha said.

She continued to wrestle with the man, but she couldn’t loosen his grip on the flowerpot.

“Look,” the man said, “this is getting tiresome. You think just because you’re beautiful—”

“I’m what?” Samantha said.

“You think just because you’re beautiful, you can have anything you want,” the man continued. “I’m not giving you this flower.”

“Giving it to me?” Samantha said. “I bought it. It’s mine. What do you want it for anyway?”

“I need to stop an evil sorcerer.”

“You what?”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” the man said. “That’s why I didn’t tell you before.”

“You’re going to stop an evil sorcerer with a flower?” Samantha said.

“It’s more like I need to stop him from getting the flower.”

“Ridiculous,” Samantha said.

There was a soft sound, then, from the other side of the room and a tiny burst of light.

Samantha could suddenly see another man standing on the far side of the room.

“Who’s he?” Samantha said.

The man who’d been struggling with her pulled the flowerpot out of her grasp and then took her hand.

“Come on,” he said.

The world suddenly disappeared for Samantha for a moment, and when it reappeared, she was standing on the pavement in front of her apartment building.

The man with the flowerpot was still holding her hand.

“How did we—” Samantha began.

“Not now,” the man said.

He pulled her to a car that was parked by the curb and opened the door.

“Get in,” he said.

“But—”

“You’re not safe here, trust me.”

Despite her better judgment, Samantha got into the car.

The man got into the driver’s seat and put the flowerpot in the space between the two of them. He began to drive.

“So I assume you’re going to say we’re being followed by your friend back there,” Samantha said.

“Yes,” the young man said.

“And he’s after this flower?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you bring me with you?” Samantha asked.

“Because it’s safer for you. If I left you there, he would interrogate you. And he wouldn’t believe you when you told him you didn’t know anything about me or where I was going with the flower.”

The young man paused.

“You’re much safer with me.”

“How did we get down to the ground so fast?” Samantha asked.

The young man held out his hand. “With this.”

Samantha glanced at his palm. A little silver button was resting on it.

“It’s a transportation device,” the man said. “It really does work—as you just saw for yourself.”

“Hmmm,” Samantha said, staring at the button.

The man put the button away.

“Do you believe me?” he said.

“I’ve got one last question for you,” Samantha said.

“Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

“Jackson.”

“Well, Jackson, I’m Samantha. And I think I believe you.”

(Part 3 is in the next blog post. Click here to read.)

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