Brandon Flowers Quotes

It was strange, how easily and quickly protection could cause destruction. Sometimes, Vasher wondered if the two weren't really the same thing. Protect a flower, destroy pests who wanted to feed on it. Protect a building, destroy the plants that could have grown in the soil. Protect a man. Live with the destruction he creates.

A person was like a dense forest thicket, overgrown with a twisting mess of vines, weeds, shrubs, saplings, and flowers. No person was one single emotion; no person had only one desire. They had many, and usually those desires conflicted with one another like two rosebushes fighting for the same patch of ground.

Oh cool, you remember! Nice to officially meet you, Brandon. Or, hold on! I actually found you a perfect nickname. Lotus flower. You know, because you managed to bloom so beautifully while surrounded by the muddy swamp that is Landon. Isn’t that so fucking poetic?

Yes, I keep the flower,” Kelsier said. “I’m not really sure why. But…do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? I don’t think so. That’s what makes the betrayal hurt so much—pain, frustration, anger…and I still loved her. I still do.

Clubs shook his head. "Kelsier. Gave us a city, made us think we were responsible for protecting it." "But we aren't that kind of people," Breeze said. "We're thieves and scammers. We shouldn't care. I mean... I've gotten so bad that I Soothe scullery maids so that they'll have a happier time at work! I might as well start dressing in pink and carrying around flowers. I could probably make quite a bundle at weddings." Clubs snorted. Then he raised his cup. "To the Survivor," he said "May he be damned for knowing us better than we knew in ourselves." Breeze raised his own cup. " Damn him," he agreed quietly.

All that I wanted was a little touch, A little tenderness and truth, I didn't ask for much

I decided that I’d see her dream fulfilled. I’d make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world where no soot fell from the sky….

Great. Lovely. Can I have your hat?” “My … hat?” The elderly woman looked up at the oversized hat. The sides drooped magnificently, and the thing was festooned with flowers. Like, oodles of them. Silk, he figured, but they were really good replicas. “You have a lady friend?” Aunt Gin asked. “You wish to give her the hat?” “Nah,” Wayne said. “I need to wear it next time I’m an old lady.” “The next time you what?” Aunt Gin grew pale, but that was probably on account of the fact that Wax went stomping by, wearing his full rusting mistcoat. That man never could figure out how to blend in.

He put the fork, knife, and spoon back in his pocket and tucked the flower behind his ear, then walked to the door, reaching it right before that butler did. He gave the man a glare—it was only a matter of time before he cracked and tried to kill them all—then pulled open the door. (...) “Nice flower,” the kandra said. “Can I have your skeleton when you’re dead?” “My…” Wayne felt at his head. “You’re a Bloodmaker, correct? Can heal yourself? Bloodmaker bones tend to be particularly interesting, as your time spent weak and sickly creates oddities in your joints and bones that can be quite distinctive. I’d love to have your skeleton. If you don’t mind.” Taken aback by this request, Wayne stopped in place. Then he ran past him, pushing into the room where Wax and Steris were talking. “Wax,” he complained, pointing, “the immortal bloke is being creepy again.

Emergency? Knighthawk sent. I’m just bored. I blinked, holding my phone and rereading that text. Bored? I sent. You’re literally spying on the entire world, Knighthawk. You can read anyone’s mail, listen to anyone’s phone calls. First, it’s not the whole world, he wrote. Only large chunks of North and Central America. Second, do you have any idea how mind-numbingly DULL most people are? I started a reply, but a flurry of messages came at me, interrupting what I was going to say. Oh! Knighthawk wrote. Look at this pretty flower! Hey. I want to know if you like me, but I can’t say that, so here’s an awkward flirtation instead. Where are you? I’m here. Where? Here. There? No, here. Oh. Look at my kid. Look at my dog. Look at me. Look at me holding my kid and dog. Hey, everyone. I took a huge koala this morning. Barf. The world is ruled by deific beings who can do stuff like melt buildings into puddles of acid, and all people can think of to do with their phones is take pictures of their pets and try to figure out how to get laid.

Nice to officially meet you, Brandon. Or, hold on! I actually found you a perfect nickname. Lotus flower. You know, because you managed to bloom so beautifully while surrounded by the muddy swamp that is Landon. Isn’t that so fucking poetic?

What’s wrong with unicorns?” she demanded from behind him, her chalk sounding as it scraped the ground. “They’re a noble and—” “They’re a noble and incredibly girly animal,” Joel said. “I’ve got my masculine reputation to think of.” “Oh hush, you,” she said. “You’ll deal with unicorns—maybe some flower people and a pegasus or two—and you’ll like it. Otherwise, you can just go draw your own circle, thank you very much.

Don't you dare," Lem barked. "What?" Anderson pulled his hand to his chest. Not quite sure of the infraction he was about to commit. "You were going to pick that flower." Anderson smiled and reached for it again. "It's pretty." Lem slapped his hand away. "It's endangered. Just look, don't pick." "That's what they told me about you," Anderson said, bumping Lem with his shoulder.

It was strange, how easily and quickly protection could cause destruction. Sometimes, Vasher wondered if the two weren’t really the same thing. Protect a flower, destroy the pests who wanted to feed on it. Protect a building, destroy the plants that could have grown in the soil. Protect a man. Live with the destruction he creates.

Either way, we had him to thank for a world without flowers, where plants grew brown rather than green, and where people could survive in an environment where ash fell from the sky on a regular basis.

rumors. I’ll not say more on the subject. Cheese in your eggs?” “Yes, please.” * * * With Kendra gone, Seth got out the equipment he had bundled in his towel, including his emergency kit and the jar he had smuggled from the pantry. The jar was now empty, washed clean in the bathroom sink. Taking out his pocket knife, Seth used the awl to punch holes in the lid. Unscrewing the top, he gathered bits of grass, flower petals, a twig, and a pebble, and placed them in the jar. Then he wandered across the garden from the pool, leaving the skimmer behind. If skill failed, he would resort to cunning. He found a good spot not far from a fountain, then took the small mirror from his

A cell phone rang from the end table to my right and Kristen bolted up straight. She put her beer on the coffee table and dove across my lap for her phone, sprawling over me. My eyes flew wide. I’d never been that close to her before. I’d only ever touched her hand. If I pushed her down across my knees, I could spank her ass. She grabbed her phone and whirled off my lap. “It’s Sloan. I’ve been waiting for this call all day.” She put a finger to her lips for me to be quiet, hit the Talk button, and put her on speaker. “Hey, Sloan, what’s up?” “Did you send me a potato?” Kristen covered her mouth with her hand and I had to stifle a snort. “Why? Did you get an anonymous potato in the mail?” “Something is seriously wrong with you,” Sloan said. “Congratulations, he put a ring on it. PotatoParcel.com.” She seemed to be reading a message. “You found a company that mails potatoes with messages on them? Where do you find this stuff?” Kristen’s eyes danced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you have the other thing though?” “Yeeeess. The note says to call you before I open it. Why am I afraid?” Kristen giggled. “Open it now. Is Brandon with you?” “Yes, he’s with me. He’s shaking his head.” I could picture his face, that easy smile on his lips. “Okay, I’m opening it. It looks like a paper towel tube. There’s tape on the—AHHHHHH! Are you kidding me, Kristen?! What the hell!” Kristen rolled forward, putting her forehead to my shoulder in laughter. “I’m covered in glitter! You sent me a glitter bomb? Brandon has it all over him! It’s all over the sofa!” Now I was dying. I covered my mouth, trying to keep quiet, and I leaned into Kristen, who was howling, our bodies shaking with laughter. I must not have been quiet enough though. “Wait, who’s with you?” Sloan asked. Kristen wiped at her eyes. “Josh is here.” “Didn’t he have a date tonight? Brandon told me he had a date.” “He did, but he came back over after.” “He came back over?” Her voice changed instantly. “And what are you two doing? Remember what we talked about, Kristen…” Her tone was taunting. Kristen glanced at me. Sloan didn’t seem to realize she was on speaker. Kristen hit the Talk button and pressed the phone to her ear. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you!” She hung up on her and set her phone down on the coffee table, still tittering. “And what did you two talk about?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. I liked that she’d talked about me. Liked it a lot. “Just sexually objectifying you. The usual,” she said, shrugging. “Nothing a hot fireman like you can’t handle.” A hot fireman like you.I did my best to hide my smirk. “So do you do this to Sloan a lot?” I asked. “All the time. I love messing with her. She’s so easily worked up.” She reached for her beer. I chuckled. “How do you sleep at night knowing she’ll be finding glitter in her couch for the next month?” She took a swig of her beer. “With the fan on medium.” My laugh came so hard Stuntman Mike looked up and cocked his head at me. She changed the channel and stopped on HBO. Some show. There was a scene with rose petals down a hallway into a bedroom full of candles. She shook her head at the TV. “See, I just don’t get why that’s romantic. You want flower petals stuck to your ass? And who’s gonna clean all that shit up? Me? Like, thanks for the flower sex, let’s spend the next half an hour sweeping?” “Those candles are a huge fire hazard.” I tipped my beer toward the screen. “Right? And try getting wax out of the carpet. Good luck with that.” I looked at the side of her face. “So what do you think is romantic?” “Common sense,” she answered without thinking about it. “My wedding wouldn’t be romantic. It would be entertaining. You know what I want at my wedding?” she said, looking at me. “I want the priest from The Princess Bride. The mawage guy.

All so different. He figured, sure, that people must be like mountains. See, when you were far away from mountains, they all basically looked the same. Fly up high, soar over them in a hurry, and there was no time for detail. Pointed. Covered in snow. Mountain. Got it. Fly up close, and they each had their own distinctive jagged bits and places where the rock showed through. He’d even found flowers growing on a few, near vents that let out warm air. The problem with people was that everyone saw other nations from far away. Saw them as big mountainous blobs. Foreigners. Strange. Got it.

A person was like a dense forest thicket, overgrown with a twisting mess of vines, weeds, shrubs, saplings, and flowers. No person was one single emotion; no person had only one desire. They had many, and usually those desires conflicted with one another like two rosebushes fighting for the same patch of ground.

Life goes so much slower when you're taking it as it comes.

Flanked by Warren and Tanu, Kendra started forward. As she neared the peninsula, her companions hung back. She felt generally peaceful about proceeding, and decided the absence of an identifiable warning meant the Fairy Queen would welcome her visit. A pair of tall women stepped out from behind the trees, blocking her path. One had flowers braided into her auburn hair; the other had leafy vines twisted into her dark plaits. Their layered gowns reminded Kendra of springtime foliage shimmering with dew. Each woman held a heavy wooden staff. “Where did you come from?” asked the woman with dark hair, her voice a resonant alto. “You tread on sacred ground,” warned the other. Warren and Tanu hustled up beside Kendra. Tanu was a large man, but these women stood half a head taller. The woman with dark hair arched an eyebrow. “Would you threaten us with weapons?” From both sides and behind, other dryads emerged from the trees. “We are friends,” Kendra said. “I have urgent business with the Fairy Queen.” “This one has a queer aspect,” whispered the dryad with the auburn hair. “Indeed,” the other dryad whispered back, “and she speaks our tongue.” “I speak many languages,” Kendra said. The dryads looked stricken. “Even our secret dialect?” asked the one with auburn hair. Kendra stared up at them, hoping her eyes displayed more confidence than she felt. “I am fairykind, a servant of the Fairy Queen. These are my companions.” The dryad with the dark hair narrowed her green eyes. After a moment, her posture became less threatening. “I apologize for our abrupt greeting. These are troubled times, and it has long been our task to protect this shrine. We’ve heard of you, but did not recognize you. We have never encountered a mortal quite like you. We now see that you belong among us.” “Thank you,” Kendra said. “My friends can’t come to the shrine with me.” The

One woman’s recipe for laundry day included this 11-step routine that’s exhausting even to read: bild fire in back yard to het kettle of rain water. set tubs so smoke won’t blow in eyes if wind is peart. shave 1 hole cake lie sope in bilin water. sort things. make 3 piles. 1 pile white, 1 pile cullord, 1 pile work briches and rags. stur flour in cold water to smooth then thin down with bilin water [for starch]. rub dirty spots on board. scrub hard. then bile. rub cullord but don’t bile just rench [rinse] and starch. take white things out of kettle with broom stick handle then rench, blew [whitener] and starch. pore rench water in flower bed. scrub porch with hot sopy water turn tubs upside down go put on a cleen dress, smooth hair with side combs, brew cup of tee, set and rest and rock a spell and count blessings.

Oh, no,” Kirihime whispered in horror. A naked Camellia running around the base was not something she wanted to deal with. This is not good! Kirihime burst out the door. She didn’t even bother locking up and just ran down the hall, using the enhancement technique to run faster. “Lady Camellia!” She turned a corner and was just in time to see Camellia standing inside of an elevator, the doors slowly sliding shut. “Bye, bye, Kiri-Kiri!” Camellia waved at Kirihime, who rushed for the door. However, not even the enhancement technique gave her enough speed to reach her mistress before the doors shut. Kirihime slammed into the door, then fell onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “This… this is really not good. Not good at all.” *** Kevin, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt that conformed to his torso, exited the locker room and began the long walk back to his apartment. His muscles ached from his most recent exercises. He and Kiara had been trying to discover more about his power. They had learned a lot through experimentation. It seemed his strange ability only worked on barriers, but they didn’t work on anything else, which he’d learned the hard way after suffering several full-on youki attacks from the powerful inu. Still, this power is pretty useful, even if it’s just the ability to break barriers. Kevin looked at his left hand. This hand seemed to be where this strange power was contained. He’d tried breaking through Kiara’s barrier with his right hand but had only received severe burns for his troubles. I wonder if it only works on barriers? Can I use it for anything else? Kiara had described his unique skill as the “ability to unlock barriers,” and indeed, when watching his power at work, it did look more like unlocking than destroying. When he touched Kiara’s aura, the red energy would peel apart like a blooming flower. The energy didn’t dissipate either. It still existed, but it moved around his hand, meaning that he wasn’t destroying it, just moving it out of the way. Kiara’s aura isn’t a barrier either, not really. It stands to reason this power can work on more than just barriers. “Kkkkkeeeeeevvvvviiiinnnnnn…………….” Kevin stopped walking, his head tilting in idle curiosity as he heard someone calling his name. “Kkkkkkyyyyyuuuuuunnnnnnnn!!!!” His eyes widening, Kevin swiftly spun around as the source of the voice got louder. He promptly found two large, round, soft things being shoved into his face. “Uwa!!” He tumbled to the floor, taking the other person with him. Delightful, childish laughter told him exactly who had crashed into him tits first. Kevin felt almost resigned. Why do these things keep happening to me?

As I wait for the streetlight to change, I inhale the warm spring air, and the most bizarre fantasy unravels in my head: Brandon secretly likes me because I know how to make him laugh. My size doesn’t matter to him, and he’s broken up about what he did to me at the party, so he dumps bitchy Taryn because she bores him and only cares about herself. Then he asks me out. I am completely aware that it is stupid and impossible. I guess it boils down to this: I liked Brandon a lot, and I wanted him to kiss me and touch me. Deep down, I wanted to have sex with him. And I keep trying to alter what actually happened that night so it resembles one of my fantasies. But nothing I do blocks out Brandon’s demand that I stay still. That I said no. That he left me naked and alone. I swear every stupid flower in Melissa’s parents’ bedroom shook its head at me as I pulled my underwear back on. None of my excuses can forgive how he treated me in the hallway. That look he had on his face. That scowl. He called me “dude.

everywhere. Tiny flowers grew in great blanketing swaths on the ground. Large, drooping pink blossoms hung from

I think you need to go see dad. I'm serious, go to his grave. Maybe take him flowers, you know he hated flowers.

What fools we can be, Taravangian said, resting fingers on the picture of flowers. We never know as much as we think. Perhaps in that, the smart me has always been the more stupid one.

Gabrielle, my dear, my sweet, my flower, I, the King of Romance, have come for you!” The person who had appeared was wearing a white tuxedo that was different from everyone else’s plaid pants and blazer combination. He had bright blond hair that was slicked back. His eyes were blue. Gabrielle had seen him numerous times already, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember his name. The blond man walked up the stairs toward her, his hand extended in a grand gesture. “My love, you are the only one whose beauty can captivate me so. Please, allow me, the King of Love, the sweep you off your feet!” The blond knelt before Gabrielle and took her hand in his. He stared into her eyes. Why was he staring into her eyes so hard? It looked like he was trying to drill holes through her with his gaze. Creepy. Gabrielle responded to this man the same way she had done every time he appeared. “Who are you again?

Gabrielle, my dear, my sweet, my flower, I, the King of Romance, have come for you!” The person who had appeared was wearing a white tuxedo that was different from everyone else’s plaid pants and blazer combination. He had bright blond hair that was slicked back. His eyes were blue. Gabrielle had seen him numerous times already, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember his name. The blond man walked up the stairs toward her, his hand extended in a grand gesture. “My love, you are the only one whose beauty can captivate me so. Please, allow me, the King of Love, the sweep you off your feet!” The blond knelt before Gabrielle and took her hand in his. He stared into her eyes. Why was he staring into her eyes so hard? It looked like he was trying to drill holes through her with his gaze. Creepy. Gabrielle responded to this man the same way she had done every time he appeared. “Who are you again?” The reaction around the room was instant. The whole class burst out laughing. Ryoko and Serah were the worst perpetrators, bent over the table and howling with laughter as they were, but even Kazekiri was snickering into her hand while trying to look stern. Gabrielle just smiled. She didn’t really know what was so funny. “W-why is it that you can never remember my name?” The blond cried out. “I’m Jameson de Truante, the most handsome man in this entire school. I am so handsome that people often call me the King of Good Looks.” “Hmm…” Gabrielle crossed her arms. That’s right. This boy was Jasmine’s older brother, wasn’t he? She remembered now. However… “I’m sorry, but you’re nowhere near as handsome as Alex.” “Hurk!” Jameson jerked backwards as though he’d been shot through the heart with something, though all this did was cause him to lose his balance. With a loud squawk that reminded her of an Angelisian parocetian (a lizard found on Angelisia that sounded like a parrot), he rolled down the stairs, bounced along the floor, and hit the stage with a harsh thud. And there he lay, insensate to the world around him. “Oh! That was rich!” Ryoko continued to laugh. “He keeps… keeps making passes at you… and you… you can’t even remember his name!! Bwa-ha-ha-ha!” “Serves the jerk right,” Serah added. Kazekiri sighed. “I normally would not approve of such behavior, but Jameson has always been a problem child, so I will let this slide once.” “Um, thank you?” Gabrielle said, not quite sure if she should be grateful or not. “Don’t worry,” Selene said upon seeing her confused look. “You might not understand right now, but you did a very good thing.” “Oh.” Gabrielle paused, and then beamed brightly at her friend. “Okay!” Class eventually settled down, though Jameson remained lying on the floor. Students chatted about this and that. Gabrielle engaged in her own conversation with her friends, discussing the possibility of going to sing karaoke this weekend. Of course, she invited Kazekiri to come as well, to which the young woman replied that she would think about it. Gabrielle hoped that meant she would come. It wasn’t long before the students were forced to settle down as their teacher came in and barked at them. Their homeroom teacher, a stern-looking man with neatly combed gray hair named Mr. Sanchez, took one look at Jameson, sighed, and then said, “Does anyone want to explain why Mr. Truante is lying unconscious on the floor?

Nevertheless, it also means that someone would be passing on. One day later, we were married at the small red brick church, which she went to as a young girl. It was the day at last; it was here; there she was walking down the aisle. With the flower pedals, everywhere. I remember seeing the angel oak trees with their leaves blowing in the breeze; it was the perfect heartwarming day. As I walked into the church. At that time, there were daisy and lily flowers all over the place on the floor, with the colors of white and pink in her bouquet, and some were even in her lovely hair, around the white lace veil, and of course next to the glittery silver princess tiara, which she wore. However, there was no one to give her away, but right before the ceremony, this older gentleman walked up to Kristen, he could barely stand or speak, yet he got up on his own two feet, he was very weak, he said that he was living with lung cancer. Yet he said- ‘I’ll do it for the little lady.’ That gentleman’s name was Greg; he said that he knew Nevaeh, and he knew Kristen’s mom, from way back when, so we both said okay, we all thought that was sweet of him to do. We said our vows, ‘I take you, to be my soul mate, to love what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know.’ ‘To love and hold and to grow old, as one soul. To get to be with you all the days of my life. While falling even more in love with you every day, as we pray. To keep you in my life.’ ‘I promise to love, and cherish you through whatever life may bring our way, as we become- us!’ We both quoted a remarkable saying by an astonishing person. ‘Love it is like the cupid's arrow, that hits at the most unlikely times. We chose to be as one forever and ever to never- ever forget that bond… now and forever!’ (We all said –Amen! in the house of the Lord.) You may kiss the bride! Brandon- and I did! Kristen- The kiss was magnificent and sweet. Then we walked out of the church together off into the sunset. Nevaeh- I am glad that I got to be there to see them be married!

It’s called a flower,” Kelsier said. “They used to grow on plants, before the Ascension. Descriptions of them appear in the old poems and stories—things that only Keepers and rebel sages know about anymore. Apparently, these plants were beautiful, and they had a pleasant smell.

Kelsier shook his head. “I decided that I’d see her dream fulfilled. I’d make a world where flowers returned, a world with green plants, a world where no soot fell from the sky….” He trailed off, then sighed. “I know. I’m insane.

Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to join us, Vin.” Vin shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I’d kind of like to see one of those flowers for myself.

I shall call us the Flowers of Night’s Last Kiss.

Despite the calming tranquility of the church garden, I still couldn’t shake a deep feeling of numbness. Emptiness. I knew the flowers speckling the grass below were beautiful, but to me they appeared muted. Graying stems with faded petals. The sky was dull and flat, its brilliant blue lost on me. Chirping birds sounded miles away, their trills drowned out and inaudible. I didn’t feel resentment. Or sadness. I couldn’t feel joy or summon laughter. A hollow void loomed where a thunderous roar of emotions had stirred before. I wished we didn’t have to be there at all.

Open your eyes Harper.” The first thing I saw was his anxious expression in the mirror. He was worrying his lip waiting for my reaction. I inhaled quickly and his body locked up when I looked down to my left side. It was beautiful. There were four large orange lilies wrapped around my hip, and I couldn’t believe how amazing they looked. I stepped closer and took in the perfect shading and detail to each flower. From the sketches I’d looked at and his drawing of me, I had known Chase was amazing, but I’d never thought he could make something like this look so real. His forced swallow was audible, and I realized I still hadn’t said anything. But there were absolutely no words. First my ring, and now this? Did anything get past him? I turned to face him and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.” Unfortunately, I wasn’t. I crushed my mouth to his and he quickly deepened the kiss. Right away the other tattoo artists started hooting and yelling for us to get a room. I pulled back and knew there was nothing I could do about the deep blush on my face. Chase led me back to his table and put ointment and a wrap over my tattoo before fixing my shirt, he was all smiles. “What made you choose those?” He beamed his white smile at me, “I heard you talking to Bree and Mom about them being your favorite. And ever since that day all I’ve wanted to do was get you orange lilies, but I knew I’d probably get punched again. This was my way around it.” “It looks amazing Chase, thank you.” He shrugged, but he still couldn’t contain that smile. “I’m serious.” I grabbed his face with both hands and brought him close, “I love it, thank you.” Chase kissed me once and skimmed his nose across my cheek. “God, you’re beautiful Harper.” My phone rang then, Brandon’s name flashed on the screen. “Hey babe.” “Hey, how’s the tattoo look?” “Um, it’s not done yet, can I call you after?” “I’m going out with some buddies from high school, I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, kay? But send me a picture when it’s done. I love you.” My stomach clenched, “I love you too. Have fun tonight.” I pressed the end button and looked up at Chase’s closed off expression. “Chase –” “So you’ll need to go buy some anti-bacterial soap to clean it.” “Please talk to me.” “I’m trying. Look, here are some aftercare instructions. Don’t take the wrap off for at least an hour. If anything looks wrong give me a call.” He dropped the paper on my stomach and stepped back. “Chase!” “I have another appointment, and he’s waiting. I’ll see you later.” I looked into his guarded eyes and exhaled deeply, “What do I owe you?” “Nothing. It was a gift. But I’m busy, please go.

My heart sunk. I never understood why people felt sorry for me. Yes it hurt knowing I’d never meet my mom, but I hadn’t had the chance to lose her. She was already gone. But this? I would never understand Brandon’s hurt, and I didn’t know how to try, but I wanted to take it away. What I did know, was that he didn’t need my condolences right now, so I reached my hand across the table and rested it on top of his. He made slow circles on my thumb causing my entire hand to heat up. “Tell me about him.” He glanced up and my breath caught at his expression. If a masculine man could be described as beautiful, then his expression was just that. “He was amazing. Hard worker, but always home for dinner with us. Brought my mom flowers every other weekend, never missed one of our games. Taught me how to play football and surf. He made sure to let us know we could have anything we wanted if we worked hard enough for it. I always wanted to be like him when I grew up. Everyone loved him, he was a great man.” “Sounds like it. I’m sure he would be very proud of you.” He smiled at me and sat back into the chair, looking at me intently. “What?” “I’ve never had someone ask me that. Normally people just tell me they’re sorry and get uncomfortable. It’s awkward and to be honest, gets kind of old.” “Does it bother you that I asked?” “Not at all. It’s nice to talk about him sometimes. Your dad ever talk about your mom?” “Um, not exactly. Just said enough to let me know I reminded him too much of her. It never made sense to me, he always kept me close, like with the home-schooling, but he always made it clear he didn’t want me.” I snapped my mouth shut before I could say anything else. I exhaled in relief when he didn’t ask me to explain that further. “Well it’s his loss.” Yeah,

The highway was teasing me with promises and visions of a country unseen, in a black limousine

and as they stepped out, all eyes turned to the window to admire the view of the cathedral after which the residence had been named. Neal and Ava trod springy new carpeting down a long corridor until they came to Simon Foster’s flat. Loud music boomed from within; Brandon Flowers singing about Mr Brightside. Ava began to sing and from the sound of it, at least three male voices inside the room were doing the same. The sound

I gotta believe it's worth it; without a victory I'm so sanctified and free.

felt he should at least play along until he found the Everbloom. Otherwise Ronodin or the Sphinx might claim it without him, and he would lose the ability to influence the outcome. “This way,” Ronodin said. “These caves make up a complex system with several entrances. The opening we’re looking for isn’t far.” Seth followed Ronodin onto a trail between leafy philodendrons and fragrant anthuriums. The day was mild, less humid than normal, with a light breeze. It seemed like a strange day to confront the toughest choice he could remember facing. Ronodin carried a duffel bag. Seth wondered what it might contain. They branched left off the main path along a faint trail. After winding through trees and shrubs, they reached a grouping of boulders. In the ground between two of the largest boulders gaped a crack just large enough for a person to crawl down into. “This isn’t a cave,” Seth complained. “It leads into one of the largest cave systems on any island in the world,” Ronodin said. He set down the duffel bag, unzipped it, and removed a garden trowel. “Dig up the flower with this. The Everbloom is resilient, but try to get as many of the roots as you can.” Then he held up a ceramic flowerpot. “Keep the flower in here. Pack soil around it.” “Okay,” Seth said. “Time for your ointment,” Ronodin said. “I’ll give you some privacy.

who would guard it. Any who possess the Everbloom will use its power to serve their desires. Giving the flower to Kendra and her kind only increases their capacity to oppress you. Don’t give them the rope they will use to hang you. And don’t turn yourself into my enemy.” “I’d hate to do that,” Seth said. “So would I,” Ronodin said. “We have been allies up until now. You don’t want to see what I do to my enemies, Seth. Not firsthand. And what the Underking would do to you is a hundred times worse. Don’t ruin your life so you can give a flower to people who hate you. They want you in chains. Don’t let somebody else collect the flower for the Underking. Use the flower to buy your life back. You deserve to seek out your memories.” Seth glanced at the crack in the ground. “Maybe I’ll die in hot lava.” “Save the dramatics,” Ronodin said. “Bring the Everbloom to me. We’ll give it to the Underking. Remember that I plan for all contingencies. Don’t fight the inevitable.” “I hear you,” Seth said. “I just climb in?” “Chimney down using both sides,” Ronodin said. He handed Seth a glowing holly wand. “The descent isn’t too far. You’ll meet Dezia at the bottom. She will guide you to the bloom. Tread carefully—Baga Loa is not a typical volcano. A cave system like this one would never form in the natural world. You may cross paths with some unusual creatures.

connection to the crypt, and break the bond with my current token, the doll.” Seth could not feel any hint of the connections she described. He had a sense of her presence, and that was all. He glanced at the Everbloom. Holding the plucked leaf in one hand, Seth reached out with the other and rested a finger against the petals of the flower. Immediately he felt a powerful influx of energy, and his mind sharpened. He fixed his attention on the phantom. The dark umbilicus connecting her to the crypt was obvious, and so was the dark channel of power uniting her to the doll. The channel of power to the doll felt sullied. Somebody was tampering with it. “I feel the connections,” Seth said excitedly. “Change them,” Dezia said. “Link me to the leaf. I am willing it. Help it to happen. Break the bond with my current token. Be quick about it. If they catch on to what we are doing, they will try to pull me away.” Seth searched the power inside of him. The darkness he drew from to quench torches was enlivened by his contact with the Everbloom. Drawing on that power, Seth focused on creating a channel between Dezia and the leaf, but the connection to the current token blocked his effort. Seth concentrated on her bond with the doll. He could not sense the location of the doll, only that it was far away. He willed the phantom free of that bond, as he would when attempting to open a lock.

We’re in one of the bigger conference rooms and there must be about a hundred chairs arranged in rows, facing a podium and a large screen. I open my notebook, write “Brandon Communications” at the top of the page, and start doodling swirly flowers down the side. Beside me, Elly’s dialing her telephone horoscope on her mobile phone. I take a sip of champagne, lean back, and prepare to relax. There’s no point listening at press conferences.

The return journey was nothing like the arrival. Bea couldn’t wait to get out of the car. She remembered feeling like this before, with Brandon, on several occasions. It was an excruciating need to escape the confinement of being in too close a proximity to passive-aggressive behaviour. She hated conflict, after a row, it would take her hours, perhaps days to become fully relaxed and herself again. She became anxious, not entirely brought on by his coldness, but by old memories, and the way her body would instinctively react to them. It wasn’t a feeling that she wanted to experience with someone new, of whom she’d told his sister only a short time ago that she was falling in love with.

The artist Eleseth," Shallen observed to Pattern, "once did an experiment. She set out only ruby spheres, in their strength, to light her studio. She wanted to see what effect the all - red light would have upon her art." "Mmmm," Pattern said. "To what result?" "At first, during a painting session, the color of light affected her strongly. She would use too little red, and the fields of blossoms would look washed out." "Not unexpected." "The interesting thing, however, was what happened if she continued working," Shallen said, "If she painted for hours by that light, the effects diminished. The colors of her reproductions grew more balanced, the pictures of flowers more vivid. She eventually concluded that her mind compensated for the colors she saw. Indeed, if she switched the color of the light during a session, she'd continue for a time to paint as if the room were still read, reacting against the new color.

We ended up in North Dakota Although my heart's in Mexico...

Flourish + Power = Flower

And now, without the book to read, sitting there with Brandon in the middle of the night, I had nothing to do but think. I checked my watch: 2:12 a.m. I pictured Kristen, sleeping on her side under her flower bedspread. Her hand tucked under her favorite pillow—the one with the beige flannel pillowcase. Stuntman Mike curled up on top of the blanket in the tangle of her legs. The clock on her nightstand giving me just enough light to see her long lashes across her smooth cheeks. I mentally pulled the blanket up to her chin and kissed her forehead and saw her eyes flutter open as she smiled at me. Fuck, I missed her. “I wish you could talk to me,” I said to Brandon. “Tell me what to do. I need you to wake up and straighten me out. Or even better, wake up and straighten her out.” I dragged a hand down my face. When I saw her today, it just confirmed what I already knew. I wasn’t ever going to get over her. I wasn’t ever going to not miss her. She was punishing me for a crime I didn’t even know I’d committed. For things I had said and things I wanted before I knew what they’d mean later. Every comment had been a nail in the board across the door she’d closed on me. “I don’t even know how to begin to convince her,” I said. “She won’t even speak to me.” I snorted. “Leave it to me to be in love with the world’s most stubborn woman.” I tried to think about what Brandon’s response to this would be. He was always so level-headed. He would know what to do. The more I tried to sway her, the further she distanced herself. The more I told her I loved her, the more she shut down. And I didn’t know how to stop it.

Iparked in Sloan’s driveway and used the key under the flowerpot to let myself in, like I did every day since the funeral two weeks ago. I kept saying I had to get a key made, but I never had the time. Between trying to run Doglet Nation while taking care of what was left of my best friend, my days were full. I had begun to consider moving back in with Sloan. I didn’t see her ever not needing me here. Her mom tapped in sometimes. She did what she could. But she had a sixty-hour-a-week job, and Sloan’s dad lived two hours away. I was the last line of defense. The house smelled like decaying flowers. I set Stuntman down and brought groceries to the kitchen and unbagged it all. Then I started tossing bouquets. She’d be able to start her own flower shop with all the empty vases. Sloan’s bedroom door was closed. I let her sleep. Getting her out of bed before noon was twice the struggle—I’d given it up. I used the earlier hours to do chores. This was my life now. The second half of both our lives had begun. The before was over, and now we lived in the after. I came over every morning as soon as I woke up. Stayed until midnight. And I lived side by side with my velociraptor. We coexisted, taking care of Sloan. I didn’t try to clean up anything that was Brandon’s. I didn’t touch his dirty clothes. I didn’t toss the beer bottle that sat in the garage. The only spark of life I’d seen from her since the funeral was when she’d lost her fucking mind on me because I’d removed and washed the almost two-month-old glass of water from Brandon’s side of the bed.

The only sounds at the late hour were the faint jingle of a phone ringing in the nurses’ station, the ping of an elevator, the faraway sound of the wheels of a cart, and the gentle beep of Brandon’s vital signs monitor. They wouldn’t allow any flowers or personal items in the ICU, but Sloan had snuck in an engagement photo. It sat on the table next to the bed. Her and Brandon on the beach, the surf crashing around their feet, her tattooed arm over his shoulder, them looking at each other. Both of them laughing. I looked back at him and sighed. “You’re going to have some gnarly scars, buddy.” They’d started the skin grafts for the road rash on his arm. “But you’ll get to do everything you planned to do with your life. One of us is going to get the girl. I’ll help you any way I can. Even if I have to wheel your ass to the altar.” I could picture his smile. With any luck I’d see it in a few hours. A knock on the door frame turned me around in my chair. “Hey, cutie.” Valerie came into the room for her vitals check. She turned the lights up, and I stood and stretched. As if sleeping in a chair wasn’t hard enough, the activity every two hours was the final kicker. I wouldn’t call anything I did on these overnight shifts sleeping. Maybe napping, but not sleeping. Every two hours Brandon was moved. They checked his airways, changed out bags, looked at his vitals. I don’t know how Sloan was handling doing this almost nightly for the last three weeks. Sloan was a good woman. I’d always liked her, but now she’d earned my respect, and I was grateful Brandon and Kristen had her. “Did you decide what day you want to bring the kids to the station?” I asked Valerie, yawning. She cycled the blood pressure cuff on Brandon’s arm and smiled. “I’m thinking Tuesday. You on shift Tuesday?” “Yup.” She wrote down some notes on Brandon’s chart and then gave me a raised eyebrow. “Any updates with your lady friend?” I laughed a little. “No.” The whole nursing staff knew about my depressing love life. I’d gotten hit on a few too many times by some of the younger nurses. I couldn’t claim to have a girlfriend, and I wasn’t married, so it was either “I’m gay” or “I’m in love with that girl over there.” I’d gone with the latter, and now I wished I’d said I was gay. They didn’t know why Kristen wouldn’t date me, just that she wouldn’t. It had turned into the favorite topic of the ICU. A real-life episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I rarely got through a Brandon visit without it coming up. The drama escalated when Kristen had been hit on by the nurses’ favorite single orthopedic surgeon. According to the nurses’ gossip circuit, Kristen told him to go fuck himself. And apparently she’d actually said, “Go fuck yourself.” After that everyone was sure she was holding out for me. Only I knew better.

Ihung up with Josh, and the switch flipped in my head. Sloan called it my velociraptor brain because it made me fierce and sharp. Something big had to trigger it, and when it did, my compulsive, laser-focused, primal side activated. The one that got me a near perfect score on my SATs and got me through college finals and Mom. The one that made me clean when I was stressed and threatened to launch into full-scale manic OCD if left unchecked—that kicked in. Emotion drained away, the tiredness from staying up all night crying dissipated, and I became my purpose. I didn’t do hysterics. Never had. When in crisis, I became systematic and efficient. And the transition was now complete. I weighed only for a second whether to call Sloan and tell her or go pick her up. I decided to pick her up. She would be too upset to drive properly, but knowing her, she would try anyway. From Josh’s explanation of the situation, Brandon wouldn’t be out of the hospital anytime soon. Sloan wouldn’t leave Brandon, and I wouldn’t leave her. She would need things for the stay. People would need to be called. Arrangements made. I began to compile a list in my head of things to do and things to pack as I quickly but methodically drove to Sloan’s. Phone charger, headphones, blanket, change of clothes for Sloan, toiletries, and her laptop. It took me twenty minutes to get to her house, and I got out of my car ready for a surgical extraction. I stood there, surrounded by the earthy smell of Sloan’s just-watered potted porch flowers. The door opened, and I took in her blissfully ignorant face one more time. “Kristen?” It wasn’t unusual for me to stop by. But she knew me well enough to instantly know something was wrong. “Sloan, Brandon has been in an accident,” I said calmly. “He’s alive, but I need you to get your purse and come with me.” I knew immediately that I’d been right to come get her instead of calling. One look at her and I knew she wouldn’t have been able to put a foot in front of the other. While I mobilized and became strong under stress, she froze and weakened. “What?  ” she breathed. “We have to hurry. Come on.” I pushed past her and systematically executed my checklist. I gave myself a two-minute window to grab what was needed. Her gym bag would be in the laundry room, already filled with toiletries and her headphones. I grabbed that, pulled a sweater from her closet, selected a change of clothes for her, and stuffed her laptop inside the bag. When I came out of the room, she had managed to grab her purse as instructed. She stood by the sofa looking shaken, her eyes moving back and forth like she was trying to figure out what was happening. Her cell phone sat by her easel and I snatched it, pulling the charger from the wall. I grabbed her favorite throw blanket from the sofa and stuffed that in the bag and zipped it. List complete. Then I took her by the elbow, locked her front door, and dragged her to the car. “Wha…what happened? What happened!” she screamed, finally coming out of her shock. I opened up the passenger door and put her in. “Buckle yourself up. I’ll tell you what I know on the way.” When I got around to the driver’s side, she had her phone to her ear. “He’s not answering. He’s not answering! What happened, Kristen?!” I grabbed her face in my hands. “Listen to me. Look at me. He is alive. He was hit on his bike. Josh went on the call. He was unconscious. It was clear he had some broken bones and a possible head injury. He’s at the ER, and I need to get you to the hospital to be with him. But I need you to be calm.” Her brown eyes were terrified, but she nodded. “Right now your job is to call Brandon’s family,” I said firmly. “Relay what I just said to you, calmly. Can you do that for Brandon?” She nodded again. “Yes.” Her hands shook, but she dialed.

We were a few minutes into it and I was just about to read my vows when the door burst open and Sloan spilled inside. My jaw dropped. She looked like a zombie bridesmaid. Her braid was frizzy, and her red lipstick was crooked. She wore the pink bridesmaid’s dress from her mom’s wedding three years ago, and she’d buttoned the dress wrong. Her hands clutched the half-dead flowers from her kitchen that I’d been picking through earlier. She must have taken them out of the trash. She had deep, dark circles under her eyes, and she looked pale, even with the blush. But she was here. I threw my arms around her. “I couldn’t not be here,” she whispered. I couldn’t even imagine the strength it must have taken for her to pull herself out of the house to be here for me. The emotional anguish she would feel, watching me have the wedding she never got. But she came. Josh hugged her, and for the first time, I saw Brandon’s absence etched on his face. He’d been doing a good job trying not to dwell on it, I think. But with Sloan here, Brandon was a void. This wasn’t the way any of this was supposed to go. Sloan and Brandon would have been long done with their honeymoon by today, at home and settled in. I don’t know where Josh and I would be, but I realized now there was no world in which the two of us didn’t end up together. And Brandon and Sloan would have been in our wedding, supporting us. Instead, it was just her. And she wasn’t really her anymore. I didn’t know if she ever would be again. But at least she was here.

if it were up to me" if it were up to me I would live where you live in a small dark corner of your soul mornings I would water the roses and the poppies, and even the wild flowers that grow on the banks of your rememberings to the left, after you pass the bridge of adversity (in the blue room, the one you had sealed off until I arrived like a tropical cyclone, and you opened the windows...) if it were up to me, I would embed myself in your left ventricle that I might be part of the skein of your illusions I would stroll through the red of your blood, and to your lungs bring orange blossoms, fragrant carnations, honeysuckle I would breathe the air of your days, the jazmin of your nights would request unlimited passport, walk here, there, hallucinated traveler, through your interiors eternal passenger in the train of your dreams if it were up to me you would never go away we would become the horror, the shame of our children the laughter of the old, the song of the nightingale if it were up to me, my god, my love, my lord if it were up to me Eclectica Magazine (Vol. 3, No. 3, Sep/Oct 1999)

Protect a flower, destroy the pests who wanted to feed on it Protect a building, destroy the plants that could have grown in the soil. Protect a man. Live with the destruction he creates.