She was sick. She couldn't get up, couldn't move anything but her head. It was useless, though. All day long she would stare out the window, at that one flower. The flower was pale blue and gorgeous. She would stare and stare, she couldn't turn around or eat the food that was given to her, she couldn't even talk. She was a little girl, you see, and the sickness was huge, possessing her whole body. She was just 4 years old, and she did not even know what was happening to her. She was like a doll. When someone positioned her in a sitting position, her eyes would open and stay like that, when someone lay her down, her eyes would close. She did not blink, and her wish was just to get rid of this sickness that was ruining her life.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, passed. The flower stared, she stared back. The weather never changed. It would sometimes rain, warm outside. The weather was never hot or cold, never boiling or freezing.
Weeks, months, passed. She grew tired of her sickness. All she could do is stare at the beautiful flower. She saw kids playing outside, but she could not go. She could not join them in their game. She was tired, she felt like crying, but she could not cry.
Years passed. She grew older, the sickness lessened.
She could twitch her fingers and toes, she could smile of frown.
She could open her mouth, she could chew.
She could talk, alas, badly, and she could move her arms and legs.
She could laugh or cry.
She could move her entire body with little help of others.
She could walk, she could run.
Each year miracles happened. She now forgot about the flower.
They moved to a new state, to a city. She went to school, she had friends. She turned 12 years old. She forgot about the flower completely.
One day, she had a dream:
A pretty pale blue flower in a garden. It was moving, as if dancing. It was dancing and dancing, fading, fading away.
She woke up, crying, she felt cold. The flower reminded her of something, but she could not remember what.
That day, she could barely move. She felt freezing cold.
She went outside, to the park, to the river. Suddenly, she saw something:
The gorgeous pale blue flower. She had went so far, she turned around to see nothing of the park -- where was she?
She stared at the flower. She felt cold. She felt a snowflake land on her nose. She stood there, a couple of feet away from the flower.
It was snowing, the flower was dying. It snowed 3 inches, she fell down.
It snowed 5 inches, she could barely breath. She barely crawled to the flower. It was dying.
She tried to protect it, to warm it up. Alas, it was covered. She was covered. She barely sat up. She saw kids run her way.
"Hey," a boy said, "what are you doing here, dressed like this?"
The other boy looked, the flower's head was peeking out a little bit. "Oh," he said, "it's nothing. The flower'll die, only painfully. I'll help it for you." He stomped the flower and they both laughed.
She, the girl, looked at them, then at the flower. Screamed. Fell down. Blood dripping out from her mouth. She lay there, her eyes rolled into her head. The boys yelped and ran away. The flower also bled.
She felt as if someone hugged her with warmth. She felt as if she was wrapped by something. She knew that it was the flower. It was the flower that kept her alive. It was the flower that healed her. It was the flower that was in her dreams. It was the flower that was her life. It was the flower wrapping her with warmth.