Pride Comes Before the Fall

I stretched in a vain attempt to wake myself up, to just make myself a bit taller, to simply push away the constricting dirt that imprisoned me under the cold surface of the earth. The sunlight beamed as I made my last attempt at growing taller.

"Why don't you take a rest, sweetheart? You began blooming over two weeks ago, and ever since then, you have relentlessly tried to make yourself grow," came the concerned voice of the coastal red wood who presided over the glen in all of her protective glory.

"I want to be taller," I exclaimed angrily, as I gave the cold and dense earth one last shove with my thin stem.

"You will damage your stalk if you are not careful," soothingly cautioned the tree.

Giggling now reverberated around the thicket as a white rose lowered herself to me, holding an intricate and delicate mirror between her thorns. Fascinated by her own appearance, she couldn't spare a glance at me.

"I am sure to be selected by the humans," she enthusiastically remarked as the glass, that was encased in silver and diamonds, shimmered. Beams of light gleamed against the mossy earth.

"Be careful what you wish for," warned the Raven as he perched safely on a twisted branch. "It's not what you think."

"Here comes one now," she squealed as the man bent down to examine her closely.

The majestic bird winced as sharp pruning equipment was taken from a gardening belt and pointed menacingly at the foolish rose. She sat proudly as the blade came closer, basking in the never-ending praise of her rarity, her beauty, and her majesty.

The rose didn't bother to scream as the sheers encircled her thin and delicate stem, slowly cutting into the stalk and spilling her liquid onto the man's hand. Trembling in pain, the horrified rose let out a muted cry of torment as her stalk was sliced. Withering in anguish, she was lifted from the safety of her bush.

"Help me!" she rasped as the throbbing torment wavered through her leaves and into her pristine, white petals. Waves of anguish churned through her entire being as the man carried her away from the forest.

"Where is he taking her?" I questioned with trepidation in my tiny voice.

"To be placed in a lonely receptacle where she will be slowly left to die from a never-ending thirst." cautioned a bee from his hive. He continued, "Oh, they will keep her on the verge of living to admire her petals; they will call her beautiful as she slowly withers and falls apart in front of them; and once her leaves show decay, they will toss her away while she is barely clinging to life."

"Hush up scaring my Little Flower," commanded the Raven protectively as he shielded me with his velvety wings. "How would you know?" as he snapped at the bee with his powerful beak, barely missing trapping his thin and sheer wing within his grasp.

"Hush now," cooed the tree who had been watching these activities with fascination. "You don't want that man to come back, do you?"

The Raven lowered his beak to the little tulip as he remarked, "You are perfect, Little Flower. You will be allowed to greet the warm sunshine every day, to find a warm home underground during the cold winter months, and to bloom every Spring. Your fate is unlike the rose."

"Will you be here each year when I wake up?" I questioned.

"Yes, My Little One. We are a team, and we always will be," responded the Raven as he lovingly enfolded me in his velvety wings.