The Boy With The Flower That Grew Out Of His Ass Cyril Wong

Once there was a boy who was born with a flower growing out of his ass. His parents wept when they saw their baby boy with a wiry stalk protruding like a dogs tail with a full bud on its tip, pointing all the way up to the back of his neck. Once the baby was out from his mother's body, he began to cry and the bud burst open into a flower with bright purple petals. The village physician was afraid to cut it off because when he stroked its long, leafless stem, the baby quickly stopped crying and went to sleep. The mother named the boy Michael and loved him with all of her being. Her husband, however, was less than enthusiastic about their first child. He ignored the boy, and left all the parenting duties to his wife, while he went out to work in the farm everyday to grow food for his family. In the evenings, he would finish his dinner in silence, wondering what he had done to deserve a child like this. He would not once look at the baby giggling and burping in his wife's arms, unwilling to catch another glimpse of the flower peeking out from over the baby's shoulder to stare at him. As Michael grew older, the flower grew in accordance with his body. When its petals became longer and brighter, his mother tucked the flower down the side of his leg under his trousers. Under the table during lessons, he would often press his hand against his thigh to feel the slight bulge of the stem, as if to make sure it was still there. He would never show the flower to anyone, fearing that they might become as cold as his father. At night, before sleep weighed heavily on his eyes, he would pull out the flower from under him, unfurl its petals, and fondle its long stem, distracting himself away from sleep, then press it against his chest before succumbing to the dark. The older he grew, the more Michael tried to please his father, by working to achieve the best grades in his class, or helping his mother with housework, especially when his father was in the same room, but to no avail. His father seemed as cold as ever, although he was secretly pleased at times when he noticed his son trying to make him happy. But he would never admit it, especially not to himself. Nestled inside him was a seed of resentment, which had grown into a poisonous weed that entwined around his heart, squeezing it ever so slightly, whenever he dwelled upon the injustice that had been committed against him, that he had not been blessed with a normal son to carry on his family name. Michael tried not to think about himself as a disappointment to his father by focusing all his energies on his education. In school, he did particularly well in Maths and English. One day in English class, Michael met another student called Thomas, with whom he became best friends. Thomas would come over to his home so they could do their homework together. They withdrew themselves from their other friends, spending more and more time with each other. On Sunday afternoons, they took long walks out of town to the huge lake that was so still and vast it mirrored the sunlit, cloudless sky to perfection. There they would sit on the banks and talk. Nobody knew what they talked about or how they became so close.

On one such afternoon, Thomas asked if Michael wanted to play in the lake. Terrified that Thomas would see the flower tucked inside his trousers, Michael did not want to take off his clothes to go into the water and said, I don't know how to swim. It was the truth. Because of the flower growing out from his ass, he had never been encouraged to learn. Thomas looked quietly at Michael for a long time, and said, I have a secret to show you. Then he took off his shirt and turned his back to Michael, who gasped when he saw what sprung out from one shoulder bladea single, white angels wing. The more he stared at it, the larger it seemed to become as it unfurled to cover an entire half of Thomass back. Thomas turned around and with a wink, he told Michael, This is why I never learnt to swim either. Immediately, Michael reached down the side of his trousers and drew out his flower. This time, it was Thomas turn to gasp, the oval of his lips eventually collapsing into a broad, lopsided grin as he said, What do you know, we both have something to hide. To Michaels surprise, Thomas suddenly hugged him. Michael hesitated only for an instant, before he wrapped his own arms around Thomass back, careful not to crush his wing. They held each other for a long time as the sun burrowed out from behind a cloud to cast its warm gaze upon them, the single wing and the purple flower. As evening came, Michael asked Thomas to stay the night with him. Thomas nodded and hugged him one last time, before they walked back home together. Michaels mother was happy to see that he had brought Thomas home, as she knew that her son had difficulty making friends at school. The whole family had dinner together; even Michaels father sat the same table while they ate, although he looked at neither of the boys, and only exchanged a few cursory words with his wife. At night, Thomas and Michael slept in the same bed, locking the bedroom door so that they could lie naked beside each other and study each others deformity more closely. Michael would feel every feather of the wing between his fingers, while Thomas would press his nose against the centre of the flower to smell its sweet fragrance. As sleep finally overcame Thomas, Michael marvelled at how his wing opened fully like a revelation in the dark. Before falling asleep, Michael was thirsty and went to have a drink from the well outside the house. When he crept out of the room, he left its door ajar, not knowing that his father had woken up in the middle of the night for a drink of water too. On his way out, his father passed his sons room, and could not resist taking a peek. He was horrified: on his sons bed was a naked Thomas with a dark wing rising out from his back. Overcome by shock, horror, and then a slow and blinding rage, he stormed in, wrapped his huge hands carefully around Thomass neck while the boy was still asleep, and squeezed. Thomas could barely cry out in shock before hearing his own neck snap, and everything went blank. Michaels father stared down at Thomass lifeless body for a long time before realising his son might come back into the room anytime now. Outside, Michael had

drunk his fill of water at the well and was making his way back. When he was close to the back door of his house, he saw a large silhouette carrying something over his shoulder and lumbering out the front of the house and away into the night. Puzzled, he decided to follow the hulking figure. As it was dark, he could not see what it was that the man was carrying, no matter how hard he tried. Michael followed the giant figure into the woods and out into the lake, where moonlight cast a lovely glow upon the waters spilling quietly onto the bank. While crouching behind a bush, he began to see that the figure was his father, and Thomass limp body was draped over his fathers shoulder, his lone wing curled up like a frightened animal clinging to his back. Michaels mind raced to its logical conclusion and a combination of fury and grief erupted inside his head, as he broke into a run towards his father, who had begun to raise Thomass body above his head to fling it into the water. Suddenly, the towering, older man felt two small hands slamming against his back, toppling him, and causing him to drop Thomas into the lake. The man quickly recovered and was able to keep from crashing facedown. Turning around, he saw his sons face in the dark, his little body trembling like a leaf, stark naked with that flower peeking over his shoulder, peering out at him like an accusing third eye. Before the man knew what to do, Michael pounced at him again. His father jumped to one side just in time, grabbed his flailing son by the waist, lifted him up in the air and after wading a little further into the lake, threw the boy into the water. Michael could not swim and started to cry out, flinging his arms about wildly. When he discovered Thomass body floating near him, he grabbed onto it like a buoy. But it only sank under his weight, taking him along into the water. Soon both of them were falling in slow motion into the depths of the lake. In time, the night resumed its stillness and quiet. In the dark, a large man stood at the edge of a lake, staring out into the night. Nobody knew how long he stayed there, or whether he shed any tears. A few stars fell out of the skyor that could have been a trick of the mind. The moon remained where it always was, a looming unblinking eye, the lens of a giant telescope gazing straight out into a distant world of unsullied, white light.