A Flowerbed of Weeds
The dandelion stared at the rose seedling. It was weak. It needed food and nutrients. However, the dandelion was not about to give up its piece of land. After all, it was there first. The seedling should be growing elsewhere. And anyway, the seedling was not used to the soil type. It was not as if it would survive.
Slowly, it urged its leaf to turn a little more towards the sun, so it would receive more sunlight. The seedling would be in the shade, but that did not matter. If anything, it was for the better – its death would be quicker.
As for nutrients…the seedling was not even suited for this soil type! Unless the humans used some type of fertiliser, it was not as if the seedling could absorb anything from it. By the looks of it, the humans would be too busy to care about buying fertiliser, let alone the right one. It would not hurt to take as much as the dandelion needed.
The whole process did not take long. Four days later, the humans found a dead seedling. No one missed the gigantic dandelion nearby. That must have been the culprit.
Despite the plant's many pleas, it was mercilessly pulled out and thrown into the compost, waiting as the insects came to nibble on its roots.
Just like a dog was a man's best friend, bees were best friends of flowers. Without us, they would find life a lot harder. Who else would spread their pollen as effectively as us? However, to tell the truth, we depended on them too. Without them, we would go on empty stomachs. So, I suppose our good relationship worked two ways. And that was taught to us at a very early age.
That was why, as soon as I was promoted to a Field Bee, I went out whenever I could, collecting nectar and pollen and making as many flower friends as I could. That included the tulips, roses, violets, pansies…
However, we were also warned when we were young against making friends with weeds. We were never given a real reason apart from that the weeds were evil. All my fellow bees took it as a way of life, but I was different. Unlike them, I was a disobedient worker. After I acquainted with the 'good' flowers, I moved onto befriending the dandelions and daisies. Many advised against it, but I did not care.
Finally, after a week, I knew exactly why it was a bad thing. Despite what many thought, though, I did not regret it.
Weeds, by definition, were plants that were growing where they were not wanted. And because of this, many human beings had developed a hobby – weeding. Every Sunday, I saw my dear friends crying, screaming, pleading for mercy…however; the only response from the people was pulling them out and throwing them elsewhere. The flowers that they were competing with would laugh at them, or cheer at the removal of the 'evil' things.
My fellow bees noticed my sadness, and they all reprimanded me for not abiding by the rules.
A worker bee's life really was not all that long. Six weeks…what could be done in that time? However, I was sure that I had done more than the other bees. I had not actually helped anyone in any way, but at least I gave myself the chance to see things from both perspectives.
Everyone was familiar with the views of the flowers on the mesmerising flowerbed. I doubted even half of them thought about things the other way.
After all, who really brought everyone and everything into existence? Of course, there are many religions and belief systems that will say different things, and, hoping not to offend anyone, I will sum everything roughly up to 'Nature'. And if Nature created things the way they are, that must be the way things really should be.
If that must be the way things really should be, then those flowers growing in the flowerbed must be, in their own way, weeds. They were not the ones there at the start – the dandelions, daisies and other 'weeds' grew there before. If Nature did not want them to be there, why would they be?
Therefore, my belief now is that the true weeds are those tulips, roses, violets and pansies, and they are the ones competing with the 'weeds'.
Ultimately, I think the definition of a 'weed' missed a keyword.
A weed is a plant that is growing where they are unwanted by human beings.
A/N: Like my other short story, 'Legend of the Lone Lotus', this was originally an idea for a poem. However, I decided to write a short story instead. It's meant to...um...mean something, if you know what I mean.
I'm not very good with words, so any suggestions on that side of things will be appreciated. I also know that tense is a big problem with me, so pointing that out will be nice as well. Oh and also, the ending…how do you think I can improve it? I don't think it's strong enough.
Then again, any reviews (yes, including flames – that is, flame along with what you hate – although I'd rather you not) will be nice!
I hope you enjoyed it!