Uhlenkamp 1

“Blue Irises and White Chrysanthemums” Excerpt

By Elena Uhlenkamp

I ran barefooted through the woods, the moist dirt and dew clinging to my feet and the

bottoms of my skirt. The wicker basket in my hand flung backwards.

“Amber! Slow down!”

I stopped on top of a fallen log and turned back to my older brother. Bradly was already

out of breath, half stumbling and half walking over fallen limbs. I smiled brightly. “Then keep

up, slowpoke!”

“With your speedy little legs?” He laughed. He was eighteen, six years older than me. He

was stronger and taller than me, but he was not as fast. “You’re faster than a quick rabbit!”

I giggled, then stuck out my tongue. He stuck his out in good humor. The foliage behind

him shivered, catching both our attentions. We both looked, but nothing was there. “Must have

been a rabbit,” I said.

“Or a man-eating monster,” Bradley said with a smirk. I rolled my eyes and we continued

on. The sun shone overhead, part of it covered with a grey cloud. We soon came to our

destination: a meadow of colors and aromas. I took in a deep breath, letting the floral aromas fill

as much of me as possible.

My brother looked at the varieties of flowers like he didn’t know where to start. He

probably didn’t, despite how much time I explained to him the meanings differences between a

red and a purple columbine. “Do you really love her?” I asked.
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“Leanna? Yes, I do.” He stepped into the flowers, treading lightly so as not to crush them.

“I’ve had feelings for her for a while.”

“Do you love her more than anyone in Chanthers?”

“Yes.”

“More than anyone in all of Gericland?”

He laughed. “Yes. She’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. If I can get a

date with her, of course.”

I giggled. “Then you asked the right person to make a bouquet for her.”

He looked at me sideways. “Are you gloating?”

“No. I’m simply saying that Mr. Gelger doesn’t know the meanings behind the flowers he

chooses.”

Bradly rolled his eyes. “Yes, I remember your distaste when Papa got orange lilies from

him for his and Mama’s wedding anniversary.”

“Orange lilies said he hated Mama, not loved her. He should have given her tiger lilies

instead. Better yet, red chrysanthemums or red carnations.”

“But Mama loves lilies.”

I rolled my eyes and looked around the field of flowers. “I don’t want you to make that

mistake.” I pulled out my pen knife from my dress pocket. “If you want to say you love Leanna,

then we will pick the right flowers.”

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“I’d just pick whichever flower is prettiest.” He came close to a flowering shrub. “Like

these. They would be beautiful in her hair.”

I narrowed my eyes at the flowers he pointed to, their soft bunches of petals blood red.

“Those are rhododendrons. They’re not the flowers you want.”

“What’s their meaning, then?”

“Beware and danger.” I glanced at flowers that had their ruffled petals crowding around

their centers, their solid reds and whites vibrant. “Would you rather tell Leanna that you love her,

or that you really love her?”

“Definitely say I really love her.”

I gently held the stem of a red carnation, slicing the green stem a few inches above the

ground and placing the flower gently into my basket. I continued harvesting the flowers.

Bradley gently tapped my shoulder. I glanced up, and he threaded a white

chrysanthemum into my hair. He smiled brightly. “It looks beautiful on you.”

I gingerly touched the pointed petals. It was rare to find white ones outside my garden.

“Where did you find it?”

“Over there.” He pointed towards the center of the large meadow where a small bunch

were blooming. “I figured that you would like some flowers for yourself.”

I smiled softly, then glanced around. Not too far from us, I found the flowers I was

looking for. I picked the most vibrant blue of the irises and placed it in the button hole on the

shoulder of his overalls. “Can’t forget to get you one, too.”

He laughed softly. “I supposed not.”

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A branch crashed down behind us. I screeched and turned, but I didn’t see anything. My

skin prickled from the sharp breeze. It brought with it the smell of wet decay, so strong that the

flowers could have wilted if they could smell. There weren’t any bogs around here, but it smelled

like one had magically appeared nearby. There was a lack of sunlight, like God decided the sun

was too bright so he covered it with a cloth.

“What was that?” I whispered.

Bradley stared into the thick of the woods where the shadows had become too dark to see

into. He must have saw something, because he reached down to his waist where his hatchet

rested. “Run home,” he said in a low voice. The blade of the hatchet glinted in the low light as he

stepped in front of me. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

He jerked his head towards me, eyes flashing with fear. “Go. Run.” He pushed me

towards the direction of home, and I almost fell over. “Run.”

Despite my gut yelling not to leave him, I ran. I didn’t turn around. Even when I heard

my brother yelling and screaming. Even when an unholy roar chilled my blood. Low branches

and thorny bushes clawed my skin and dress, tears streaming down my bloody cheeks.

(To Be Continued)