Waiting

• Dominic O'brien, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2019

With every passing day, the differences became more noticeable. The petals browning as they soaked up the harsh rays of the sun. Burning under the immense pressure. The once luscious leaves left baked, just a crispy skeleton of their former glory. Dying.

The man hadn’t come days. The daisies huddled together, seeking companionship in each other. The snow-white pedals riddled with holes and tears. The once strong and tall stems were left frail and limp. A mere husk of what they had been. The petals drooped under the beaming heat, withdrawing all their energy. The sun slowly sucking away all the life from the garden.

For hours I waited, waited for the old man to exit his house. Carrying his rusty red watering can. The one he brought outside every second day. Still they waited. He had left his beloved daisies, dying in the desert-like garden. The once rich soil now red hot under the immense sun. The decaying daisies lay thirsty, dependent on the old man. Longing for the nourishment they needed. Still the old man never showed.
His house lay still, no movement to seen. Dust gathered on the windows, blanketing them in a thick grey powder. The sun glared onto the dirty glass windows, highlighting any imperfections it found. The woollen curtains barred the light from entering the house. The lonely building left an eerie shadow on the joyful suburban street. Still, the daisies sat in the garden. Growing weaker and weaker by the second. Unloved and unwanted, they waited for the man.

More days passed and the daisies were still waiting. The man hadn’t taken a step outside, let alone cared for his daisies. His precious daisies. The ones he planted just a few months ago. The daisies he would warn the neighbourhood children to leave alone. They were special to the frail old man; and now? Now they had been forgotten. Left to fend for themselves in the smouldering heat. It wasn’t fair.

The daisies were almost touching the ground now. Their once icy white leaves were left completely charred from the incandescent temperatures. Withering under the sun. they yearned sustenance. The poor daisies. Nearly deprived of all life, they just sat there. Waiting.

Time went on and the daisies grew weaker. The once beautiful flowers lay wearied on the floor from which they grew. Left to rot by the man who cared so deeply about them. They were nothing without the man, and he discarded them. Rejected their beauty and neglected their needs. The old man abandoned them when they needed him the most. They were cared for when they were with the man. Nurtured and loved. Now they are alone. The old man never came; he’d discarded his once proud cluster. Forsaken under the sweltering summer sky. Dead.