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My Dearest Sunflower - A Short Story by Nick Weingartner

My Dearest Sunflower - A Short Story by Nick Weingartner

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Published by Nick Weingartner
A story about a man who grows the perfect woman from a seed. First published in Indigo Rising Online Magazine.
A story about a man who grows the perfect woman from a seed. First published in Indigo Rising Online Magazine.

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Published by: Nick Weingartner on Jul 22, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial No-derivs


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 At the age of 17, I had come to realize that there was something missing in my life. It wasn’t something physical, or something that I could easily attain, but it was insteadsomething of another nature.I had spent my years up to that point living with a friend while furthering my studies atthe university. When I told my friend of what I sought he told me of a man he had onceheard about – a man that was both young and old – a man who had the ability to solvemy problem.He told me that I must go to where the ocean meets the coast, and the man would be waiting there, watching the evening tide roll in. After a few days, I went to such a place. I had expected to find nothing – knowing my friend was always a jester of sorts – but to my surprise, I saw the Man he had heardabout.He was exactly as my friend had described him – a man who possessed both youth andage; on whose face spoke of both insurmountable happiness and infinite despair.I told the man what I desired, and he understood my plight. Upon reassuring him my responsibility, he gave me what I sought.It was a seed.It was no ordinary seed, mind you, but one of the likes of which I had never before seen.It was small and brown, like most, but it had a texture I had never encountered. It felt asthough it’s ridges weren’t just a random assortment of molecules arranged in ameaningless manner – it felt as though they were the lines of a record – as if they told of astory that only those with a keen sense could understand.I thanked the man greatly, and he told me what I was to do. He told me if I were to takeit to a truly lovely place, and bury it there – it would grow into something that was truly beautiful. All I had to do was water it daily and treat it with the love it deserved.I agreed to do as he said, and he kindly shook my hand and wished me luck. His skin wassoft and tender, not unlike that of a newborn’s, but with it carried the wrinkles of a man with wisdom. I thanked him once again and then went on my way.I went to the most lovely place I could remember – a place where I visited often as a boy – where nature still roamed and lived freely and the air still breathed of life. I took it thereand I buried it – nestling it in the smallest of graces and covering it with a blanket of thesoftest soil I could muster. I hoped to soon become like Lazarus, waiting to witness themiracle that was soon to come.
Day after day, I returned to this lovely place, and watered the seed and treated it with theutmost of care. I sometimes read it the sonnets of Shakespeare, hoping his words of love would speak to it the way I could not. After 7 days, I saw the first sign of life.From the ground grew a single finger – one with the softest of skin and the slightest of  warmth. Her skin was as soft as a baby – absent from it the hard skin that grows as weage. It stood from the ground strong and independently, and as I touched it, I felt ittouch back.Knowing it was not ready, I continued to water it and read it sonnets, anxiously awaiting what was to come.--Each day, she grew more and more – what was once only a finger had grown into a hand,then an arm – and as I continued to water and read to her, I imagined she knew my presence.On the 27
day, I saw her face.It was beautiful – her eyes, although closed, were kind, and her skin was delicate. I gently ran my fingers across her virgin face, and I imagined her smile. Though, to my dismay, I did not want to rush things, and knowing she was not ready Icontinued to water her and read her sonnets.-- As the next few weeks passed, she grew taller and taller. Her face was always staring atthe sun, as if navigating its rays and finding it’s warmth. She stood half her height now,and her beauty was growing each and every day.I began to wonder what kind of woman she would become – surely one of kindness andcompassion, of intelligence and virtuosity. She’d love the world for all it’s worth, and it would love her back. She would live each day caring for others.Maybe she’d be a ballerina, and I would be able to watch her spin as her body fell in sync with the music that flowed around her.Or maybe she’d be an artist, and I would be able to admire her work before the world settheir eyes upon it.I began to think of what our first kiss would be like.

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