Dancing with the Flowers

The spring yellow sheets were pulled back, the little daffodil pattern scrunched together, looking more like a mess of popcorn then flowers. Thin, nimble fingers placed the folded blanket back, smoothing out the sheet underneath, making sure every crease disappeared. Mechanical hands fluffed the pillows next, getting it to just the right feel: not too hard and not too soft. The work was done thoughtfully; considerable attention placed on the yellow sheets that would only be ruffled again by morning.
"I'm done," a little girl called, walking out of the adjoining bathroom. She was short and slightly round, looking like a puppy with big brown eyes. Long, straw colored hair swung just to her shoulders as she walked into the room. Her six-year-old frame was covered in a purple nightdress, worn with faded patches from a year of use.
Almost a twin to her younger sister, with long blond hair pulled up into a ponytail and pale skin with rosy cheeks, the woman pulled the blanket back a bit more as the young girl came bounding up.
"Did you brush your teeth?"
The girl smiled wide, her eyes tightly closed, to show off her clean smile.
"Good. Now hop up."
Doing as she was told, she hopped onto the bed, creating lines and destroying the once neat sheets. It didn't matter though.
"Miss Myers yelled at me again today," she said as she snuggled under the sheets, helping pull them up to her neck.
"That's because you were playing in her garden again."
"I can't help it."
"Sadie, you can help it. You just choose not to listen." She went to a shelf and retrieved an old stuffed bear that was missing one eye. The arm looked as though it was about to fall off also.
"But I like her garden. We don't have one," Sadie said, taking the bear and cradling it under her arm.
"We only just planted it. It will grow soon."
"How soon?" Sadie asked.
"Soon. Now go to sleep." She leaned down and kissed Sadie's forehead, pulling the sheets up a bit more as she did. "Sleep well."
"You'll be downstairs?"
"I'll be downstairs."
"Daisy?" Sadie called before she left the room, causing her to pause and turn, her hand over the light switch. "I love you."
"I love you too."
"Can we go to the park tomorrow and pick flowers?"
"Of course."
Sadie smiled and fingered the furry bear in her hands.
"Now go to sleep."
"Good night."
"Good night."
Daisy flipped the switch down and left the room dark. Leaving the door open an inch, faint light from the hall seeped in, giving Sadie just enough light to see if she needed to get up. Daisy stood by the door for a moment, listening to the quiet coming out of her little sisters room, before frowning and walking down the stairs of their once parents house.
"Do you want to plant Roses?" Daisy asked Sadie as they held their ice cream cones in their hands, walking to the door of the parlor.
The small girl shook her head, licking the pink, strawberry flavored frozen treat from the cone in her hand. "No. I want daffodils."
"We already planted daffodils," Daisy noted.
"Well, that's all I want."
"Alright then." Daisy came to the door first and held it open for her younger sister as she held her ice cream in both hands. Sadie ducked and walked under her arm, turning and disappearing behind the door outside. Following, Daisy leaned her back against the door to hold it open as she sidled out, turning in the same direction as Sadie. But as she was not properly looking, Daisy came into contact with a hard figure, bumping into them with her ice cream.
"Oh my god," Daisy said in surprise, startled.
"I'm so sorry," came the smooth, almost English sounding voice of the person she collided with. "I wasn't looking."
"No, I'm sorry. I wasn't either," Daisy confessed, looking down at the spilled ice cream on the ground. Her eyes then came up to see the same green cream covering a large spot on the mans shirt. With her face contorting into a serious frown, she apologized again, "I'm really sorry."
Finally facing a fear, she looked up at his face, planning to be met with a scowl, only to find an opposite. A young man, looking not much older then her twenty-two years, with short brown hair, was slightly smiling back at her.
When he was met with her face, his smile faded, his top teeth scraping his bottom lip as it disappeared. He stared into her brown eyes for a moment, not noticing the sorry and question in them, before speaking up. "It was my fault. I moved to avoid hitting your," and he paused, "daughter here. And in turn, I ended up running into you."
At the mention of Sadie, Daisy remembered her and turned her attention onto her younger sister. She was standing off to the side, a small geeky smile lacing her lips.
"She's not my daughter," Daisy corrected. "It's my little sister."
"Oh," he said, relived. "You didn't look old enough to have a daughter."
She shook her head and looked down at the drop of ice cream on her shoe.
"Let me buy you another one," he offered, grabbing the open door that Daisy was still leaning on.
"Oh no," she said, looking up and shaking her head profusely. "No you don't have to. I owe you for your shirt."
"This," he said, grabbing the blue button up he was wearing, "is old anyway."
"But still...."
"Come on. You must let me." He took a step towards her, causing her to step back a little to keep a comfortable distance. He took one more step, walking her back into the ice cream parlor. "And you too," he said, looking back at Sadie. She smiled up at him and walked under his arm, following Daisy inside.
"You really don't have to-"
"Go find a seat," he instructed. "It was mint, right?"
There wasn't time to answer as he walked up to the counter and began to order her another cone. Daisy looked at him awkwardly before walking with Sadie to a small table by the window. When they were seated, Daisy took a napkin and wiped the melted green mess from her shoe, just in time for him to come back.
"Here," he said, placing it in front of her and sitting down across from the two identical girls.
"You didn't-"
"I know but I'd feel horrible. I know what it's like to drop an ice cream." He winked at Sadie who blushed and quietly giggled, licking her almost gone cone.
"I must do something for you," Daisy told him, not even looking down at the new ice cream he brought her. "I ruined your shirt."
"It's not ruined."
"You've a big green stain on it," Daisy pointed out.
"I like green."
She laughed and looked down. "I'll get you a new one. A green one." She smiled up at him.
"Hmm," he pretended to think. "No, you really don't have too."
"Well then what can I do to forget my guilt? Yours is gone now, I have to do something."
"There's no need."
"He can come to the picnic tomorrow," Sadie spoke up, her high-pitched voice filled with enthusiasm at her idea. "In the park."
"Picnic?" he questioned.
"Oh, we go to the park every Thursday for a picnic," Daisy informed him off-handedly. "Nothing special."
"And we pick flowers," Sadie told him.
"What kind of flowers?" he asked, feigning intrigue.
"Daffodils. My favorite."
"Daffodils are wonderful flowers," he said, smiling, causing her to blush again. "I'll see what I can do. Maybe I'll be there for this picnic."
"You don't have to-"
"I know," he told her, again. "But, you do want your conscience clear, right? And I do love picnics."
"Well, then, maybe we'll see you there," Daisy said, hoping she would not. "We go to the back of the park. Around the lake there's this little forest. No one else ever goes there, so that's where we'll be."
"Great. Maybe I'll see you then," he said, standing up. "I've got to go now though. Have a great day. Enjoy the ice cream," he said, winking at Sadie.
"Bye," Sadie said, quietly, smiling up at him as he went to walk away.
"Oh wait," he said, turning back around. "I don't know your names."
"This is Sadie," Daisy told him, pointing her far hand over at her sister.
"Hi Sadie." He stuck out his hand and she shook it. "And what about you?"
She looked up at him for a moment before finding the words lodged in her throat. "Daisy."
"Daisy," he slowly repeated. "I'm Brandon Jameson. It was nice to meet you."
He smiled once more, showing bright, perfectly straight teeth, before turning and walking away, waving back at Sadie before the door closed behind him and the bell over it jingled.
"I don't know how you just invited him," Daisy scowled, unfolding the red blanket and placing it on the ground in the park. "I'm sure he has better things to do then come with us on a picnic."
"He said he might come," Sadie noted, sitting down on the soft fabric with a large basket.
"Even if he does, he's only doing it to be nice." Daisy sat down next to her little sister, taking the basket and setting in right next to herself with a huff and a look to Sadie. Sadie only tilted her head a bit, looking up with her big brown eyes.
"He's nice."
"Polite," Daisy corrected.
"He's pretty."
"Men aren't called pretty, Sadie," Daisy told her.
"Oh, well then what are they called?" the girl inquired.
Daisy licked her bottom lip and thought for a moment. "Well, they are called handsome."
"Well then he's handsome," Sadie said, smiling.
"I didn't notice," Daisy said, opening the picnic basket and fumbling through it.
"Yes you did!" Sadie shouted, almost causing Daisy to drop the cups she had in her hands.
"Sadie-" Daisy warned.
"Well, you did." With a disappointed sigh, Sadie turned her head and looked into the distance of the park. A look came upon her face that Daisy had seen from her many times, one that always brought a small bit of worry. And just as she predicted, Sadie opened her mouth and after a moment, spoke again. "Do you think," the little girl began, "that I'll ever get married?"
Daisy was often surprised by the questions Sadie asked, or the nonsense she would say, but this was something she had not expected from her little sister.
"Well of course, one day," Daisy answered as she continued to set things out. "Why would you ask that?"
"You're not married yet," Sadie pointed out.
"Well, no," Daisy agreed, shying away and looking down at what she was doing. "But, I just haven't met the right man."
"When will you?"
"I don't know."
"When you meet him, you'll marry him?"
"I don't know Sadie, it's not as easy as that," Daisy told her.
"Why not?"
Without thinking of how a small child would take it, Daisy answered, "Because I have you."
Sadie cocked her head to the side and looked at her bigger sister with a hint of sadness.
"Well, Sadie," Daisy began, putting the napkins in her hands down and directing her full attention to the distraught girl, "I have you to take care. I don't need to be thinking of getting married or any of that."
"But, you want to, don't you?"
Daisy paused, wondering how the outcome of this answer would work. "Yes."
Sadie only nodded and just when Daisy thought to say something else, she watched a smile spread across Sadie's face as she looked off into the distance. Daisy turned her head in the same direction, becoming surprised as she watched the man from yesterday approaching.
She thought to grab Sadie as she looked as though she was ready to charge the man. Daisy had no idea why Sadie was so happy to see him other then to prove her wrong. Daisy honestly believed that he would not show.
"Good afternoon Ladies," he greeted as he walked up. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his dark gray pants, and his shoulders were shrugged, making him look oddly nervous in a way, which he otherwise did not seem.
"Good afternoon," both girls said at the same time; Sadie bouncing on her heels as she did so, and Daisy looking up at Brandon in a bit of shock.
"I was going to bring something to contribute, but I'm a mess in the kitchen," Brandon explained.
"That's ok," Sadie exclaimed, earning a smile from the man she stood beside.
Brandon turned his attention to Daisy, meeting her eyes for more then a minute till she shook her head, found her manners and asked him to sit with her. He did, and Sadie made a point to sit herself right next to him, though Brandon did not mind.
He spent most of lunch talking with Sadie, who went on non-stop, hardly eating anything, or talking with her mouth full even after Daisy would send a glare her way. Brandon laughed and amused her, by smiling and participating in her conversations of strange things. Daisy sat back, happy with the attention Sadie was receiving.
Afterwards, Sadie went off to play near a small creek that ran through the trees in the park. Daisy pushed aside cleaning up to keep an eye on the small girl. Brandon was only too happy to join Daisy in walking, finally having a chance at conversation with the oldest of The Thomas girls.
Daisy talked of herself, of her job as a Liberian. She told Brandon of her wish to become a teacher but that she had to put her dream on hold for Sadie, as she was her responsibility. Of how she had to drop out of school to give most of her attention to raising Sadie on her won. Brandon listened, nodding his head at times, just letting her talk. When Daisy admitted that her and Sadie's parents both died in a car accident, he grew a bit uncomfortable at the feeling of wanting to put his arm around her and tell her he was sorry. But it was not his place to do such a thing. So he kept quiet, giving her a sorrowful glance, which she gratefully accepted with a small smile, before looking back down at the flower-covered path they were walking on.
At the end of an hour they had both talked so much that they could have felt they had known each other for years. Daisy was usually quite modest and her spill of life and events to this man she hardly knew was unsettling. But there was something about him that made her feel so at ease, that she could tell him everything.
It was when the sun began going down and the sky started turning a bright pink color, that they decided to leave. Brandon helped pack things up and carry them to Daisy's car. He thanked the two girls for the lunch and hospitality, before waving goodbye and getting into his own vehicle. It was after Daisy and Sadie had driven away that he thought of how he forgot to ask for her number. He knew then that he did want to see her again, and hoped she was feeling the same.

A Strange Way to Die

Time after time your parents have told you to do multiple things. Things such as 'eat your vegetables' or 'take a shower." Quite honestly, do the majority of kids listen? Nope. I'm sure the percentage of kids who do listen, probably only listen because their parents are rather strict, they actually like vegetables or they just got tired of their terribly greasy hair.

Something else parents continuously tell their kids to do is not watch too much television. If there were to be a survey on what parents repeat to their children all the time, this would most likely be in the top 5. The reaction kids take to this is either change the channel and pray they won't notice or turn it off, go away for a few minutes, then come back and turn it back on.

Since parents seem to be neglected all the time when they tell their children to shut off the damn T.V, parents decided to take a new approach to this. They took note on what their children watch and studies show it's mostly cartoons and crimes. Mind you, this stuff dates back to when the television was first invented, so, the television had a huge impact too quickly. Anyways, parents thought of a way to get through to their children thanks to the children's dirty deeds themselves. Parents decided to threaten their children.

Yes, parents threaten their own children. Well, it made perfect sense. Television shows were always so repetitive and most of it was "Gimme your money or else..." or "I'll blow her brains out if you don't cough up the cash." Now, before you jump to conclusions, parents did not threaten to blow their child's brains out if they didn't shut off the television (however, I think that may have been more effective). Instead, they took a sci-fi turn and made up sad, pathetic stories children easily believed.

You probably know what their threat was since it's been quite (in)famous now-a-days, but what you don't know is that it is indeed true. Many of these occurrences went unidentified and unmentioned to the public, but one story got out. After all, government secrecy has its holes.


Little Freddy tapped his foot on the floor and stared anxiously at the clock that hung on the wall of the classroom. It was around the late 70's, early 80's. His mom was at home cooking a dinner that everybody wished their mom would cook, his dad was under the car sweating like a dog trying to figure out what caused the car to stall and his dog Banjo was at his mother's heels licking his chops. Now, perfect scenario, but is this what Little Freddy was tapping his foot ever so anxiously for?

No! He was tapping his foot and staring anxiously at the clock because of what was waiting for him in the living room. Because of that little box that had what seemed like two antennas sticking out of it's top and a limited amount of channels kids now-a-days would throw their head back and laugh. Because of that goddamn television set.

You can only imagine how quickly that little boy ran when the bell rang. When he ran up the driveway to see his dad under the car, he didn't even stop, but mumbled a hi. When he zoomed past his mom, he once again mumbled a hi. He didn't even acknowledge Banjo who started to wag his tail viciously.

He threw his backpack in the middle of the hallway and raced to where the remote was waiting for him on the coffee table. He didn't even wait to sit down to turn on the T.V. In fact, he turned it on, and then sat down right in front of it. (Now, this was something else parents always scolded their children for: sitting too close to the T.V, but that's not what this is about.)

Nearly automatically, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened as the pixilated animation danced across his eyes to advertise a new detergent.

His mom took a rather quick notification, dried her hands with a dishtowel and then walked into the living room, dishtowel in hand. When she saw him fixated on the floor in a mere second, she sighed, but changed her tone. (She's been discovering some ways to get through to her child without getting them angry.) "Hi, sweetie, how was your day?"

"Good, mom." He barely mumbled. For all his mother knew, he could've said something else.

"I'm making your favorite meal," she said (this was absolutely true). All she got from him was "Great." Figuring she'd get back to him in a few, she walked back into the kitchen defeated, this time without the dog following on her heels.

Banjo, the family dog everyone loved. Little Freddy used to always play with Banjo and Banjo always looked forward to Little Freddy's homecomings. He would jump at him and bark playfully, like he's doing now. Little Freddy barely notices.

Unfortunately enough, ever since Little Freddy got glued to the T.V, Banjo has not had his afternoon activities and is getting unhealthy since Little Freddy is continuously feeding him his dinners (the whole meal, mind you) so he could claim he is finished eating and then run back to his beloved television set. Now, Banjo is getting terribly fat and the family will later regret not taking notice.

An hour has passed and it is now dinner time. His mother went into the living room to fetch Little Freddy and when he would not answer her calls, she walked up to him. The light from the television caused a ghastly expression on Little Freddy's face. His mother gasped and stepped back a little.

She shook it off, thinking herself crazy, and claimed it's just because he's been lacking in sleep that there are dark circles under his eyes. "Sweetie, dinner's ready," she said, a little shaky.

"Okay, mom," he muttered, his voice a little raspy. Since his tone of voice seemed rather, let's say, unwelcoming, his mother walked away and went to confront her husband. She never was a type to get mad or upset at her child; she loved her son dearly.

His father was not strict and definitely loved his son. He was the type of father that would take his family out to picnics or fly kites with his family. However, when there was ever any disobedience, he made sure he was heard by those who disobeyed.

"Where's Freddy? I wanted to ask if he wanted to come to work with me on Saturday," his father said when his mother walked in, with a frown upon her face. His father loved to take his son to work because he loved to show him how he worked and how strong he was. On a regular, normal day to day basis, Little Freddy loved to go to work with his father because there was always free candy in the office.

"Stan," she started, sitting herself at the table, "I think Freddy's watching too much T.V."

"Well, then Greta, tell him to turn it off," he said. He found this rather absurd since his wife seemed so shaken up about this.

She simply chuckled. "That doesn't have any affect anymore."

Hearing this from his wife in such a desperate state, Freddy's father stood up and went to the living room thinking he would solve this problem himself. He turned on the lights as soon as he walked in, causing his son to spin around as fast as a bullet.

When his father saw Little Freddy's angry expression (and it wasn't the expression itself), his jaw dropped and was slightly taken aback.

His skin seemed a lot paler, with maybe a hint of green, and dull than usual. His skin was never dull, it was always glowing. His eyes were thickly outlined with black circles and he, himself, seemed to have dulled out completely. His rich brown hair wasn't even that rich anymore.

His father made a motive to not back down. "Freddy, you're mother and I think you are watching way too much T.V. for your own health. Now, be a good boy and shut off that T.V. and join your mother and I for dinner." By now, he had inched closer to his son, and was now standing a little bit behind him. Little Freddy kept his faded eyes on him.

"Turn off the lights," he simply growled.

It took a lot to get his father severely angry and his father made sure not to get angry. So, his father cracked an uneasy smile and said, "You know, son, watching too much television will turn your brain to mush and you'll turn into a zombie."

At work, one of his friends told him that when his daughter started watching too much T.V, he simply told her that if she watched too much T.V, she'll turn into a zombie and his daughter listened and hasn't watched T.V. since. Little Freddy's father thought he won this.

Little Freddy's pale lips curved into a smile. "So, you're saying if I watch too much T.V, I'll die?"
For all of the most highest, advanced doctors, this seemed to be such a mystery. All the best doctors from all over, nearly every state, gathered in a conference and thought of all the possible reasons to why they couldn't figure this out.

"Maybe it's just a hoax," a doctor from New York said.

"There is no possible way," a doctor from Washington argued.

Each doctor examined this little boy that his parents brought into the emergency room. They ran tests, they used the most advanced technology, they did everything they thought would work, they all stayed up late to try to figure out an explanation.

There was absolutely no way this could be possible. Each doctor agreed with this statement and they called in detectives, anyone who could solve such a mystery. Of course, all of this was kept unsaid.

The highest, most unusual detectives were brought into this. They all examined the body themselves, stayed up all night, ran tests, used the highest technology. Then, they did something not even the doctors thought of: They interviewed Little Freddy's parents.

They were brought into a little room in California (they originally lived in Oregon). His mother was in tears and did her best to hold them in and his father was doing his best to keep himself together. After all, losing a son is hard to bear. Now, this was very different for his parents, considering their situation.

The detective that the government claimed to be the best detective claimed he couldn't give his name and set some standards that took nearly everyone (or those who knew) by surprise. When I said the most unusual detective, this is who I am speaking of. Just like every case this detective took, everyone thought that it was the most bizarre and unusual way for a detective to work. But that is what this case needed, being unusual of the sort.

"I've spoken to the government and as anyone knows, this is by far one of the most unusual cases to ever occur. Considering the circumstances, I have conjured up a way to best handle this situation. Now, I have solved this case and you will find it hard to believe."

His mother gasped and just wanted to know how her son died. She obviously had a narrow way of thinking. His father stared at this man and automatically knew that both his wife and himself will have to go through some obstacles.

"You're son Fred, was in a very unusual state when you brought him in. What happened before you brought him in?"

His father answered this. "Well, I was talking to him about how he watched too much T.V. and, I know this is immature, but I told him that if he watched too much T.V he would turn into a zombie. Then, he got rather upset and then, ran out the door."

"Oh, was my son murdered?" his mother begged, clinging onto her tissue.

The detective let out a sigh. "When you brought him in, Mr. and Mrs. Maguire, we found him to already be at least 2 weeks dead."


Even though they did their best to come up with a natural, reasonable solution as to why and how Little Freddy died, their claim that he had already been 2 weeks dead was the most natural and reasonable solution. The only ones who knew and actually believed this answer was those who examined the body. Yes, the parents knew, but they didn't believe it.

A case like this can cause some horrid after shocks, and, yes, it did for poor Little Freddy's parents. The government moved them to Maine under new names and had to fake their death. The headlines the public saw in their local newspaper were, "Whole Family Vanishes While Going Out For A Picnic In Local National Park." It after all, was very believable.

Little Freddy's body was still being examined as technology advanced. The unusual detective shook his head and wished they would just let sleeping dogs lie. He knew what the cause of death was, even though not a soul truly believed it.

"He died from watching too much television," he told himself one afternoon, while sipping a cup of coffee.