Possession

Soft orange light pooled down from between trees, filtering through the branches and leaves and scattering itself upon the ground in blotchy, muted spots. The wind blew softly, a gentle breath through the trees; hardly enough to stir the blanket of leaves resting gently on the ground. Beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient oak, tucked neatly in the corner was a flower, basking in its own shaft of light. The sun shifted, and the orange light turned blue, the forest seeming cooler, chilled. The light glanced off the edges of the flower, edges that were as smooth as satin, curled slightly, and dripping wet with the dew of the morning. Golden stems bearing pollen arched out smoothly from the center, quavering slightly in the wind, the smell almost sickly sweet. Again, the light changed, a dark cloud racing across the sky to smother the sun in its heavy, black arms. The soft, white petals shook, a drop of water falling to the ground onto a leave below with a splash, turning it black like the darkest ink. The edges of the petal crumpled, blackening, curling from the last remaining shards of light, as though afraid; cringing away. A fly buzzed, hovering near the flower, drinking in the scent that was no longer sweet, but acrid, like decay, something rotting. The wind shuddered through the forest again, and a leaf fell, in its place a maggot falling from the heart of the flower, forcing its way across the silky petals and leaving black death in its path. Another petal fell, and another. From the ground roots grew, vines, with thorns sharp and secreting the same dark ink. The thorns bit into the flower, strangling it until the only white that remained was that of the several maggots crawling across the surface of the reeking black flower. The vines contracted, squeezing, as though trying to crush the life out of the delicate blossom. Thick, ebony liquid seeped from the tears in the petals, dripping onto the ground below as the petals withdrew and fell, staining the earth black. Slowly, the vines contracted, leaving the earth torn open and bleeding, as every last petal drifted silently to the ground.