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I am nothing. I am a single grain of sand amongst billions. I am a single voice within a crowd. I am human, I am god, I am here, and this is what I have to say:

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Original Work Update---The Thistle and the Daisies

I wrote this on a whim for a friend once, via an internet conversation, because they had asked for a story, and sometimes, I oblige. After reading a lot of things today about challenges and hardships, I thought it kind of fit, so here it is.

The Thistle and the Daisies
So once upon a time in a very distant land there grew a great field of daisies. Now this field was a special field, in it that all of the other daisies were just as happy as daisies could be. Which is to say, they were outstandingly happy. After all a single daisy only had to look in any direction to see that it was surrounded by the brightest and best of it's kind, exactly like its self, and the daisies were all very much in love with themselves and the soil beneath their roots and the tenderly, loving bees and butterflies that would tickle their petals and spread their love from one flower to the next.

In fact, there was no happier place anywhere to be found. All the flowers were very much in love with life and everything their simple existance contained. In hindsight they needed so little; sun, rain, insects for pollination. Not a complaint could ever be heard coming from anywhere in this field of daisies. That is, at least from the petals of the daisies.

You see, In this field of yellow and white that stretched as far as the eye could see was a single, purple thistle. Much to the thistle's dismay, he grew up tall and proud, (in thistle comparison anyway) but somehow always seemed to find himself as the ridicule of the daisies' attention.

Now, it wasn't as if the daisies made fun of this poor, lonely thistle, mind you. In fact, there was no ill will at all. The daisies were far too concerned with their own existance to ever pay attention to the single purple blight amoungst them, which was, hence, the root of the thistle's problem. No matter how tall and proud he grew he could never rise his head above the daisies and find a place for himself. Instead the thistle felt very much insecure and unwanted. After all, everywhere he looked were the bright yellow colors of all the daisies. His own purple hue was so ridiculously out of place.

So one day, after the season's heaviest rains had fallen and given all the flowers the life giving water they so desperately needed, and when the sun had just begun to peak out from behind the clouds and pleasantly warm the air; the thistle came to a very important decision.

He had decided he had enough. The thistle, with all his pride, pulled himself from the moist earth freeing all of his roots and gazed up and over all of the daisies. He waved farewell, and listened as the daisies too made their lazy good-byes and returned to basking in the sun. With his mind made up he set off across the field walking along his roots until the field of daisies was long behind him.

He was just beginning to question his motives, as he crested a very big--and tiring!--hill, but lo and behold--on the other side of the hill was a very happy and beautiful field with millions and millions of purple thistles just like him singing and praising the sun. His petals glistened with a sense of belonging and happiness he had never felt as he quickly rushed down and made his place amoungst the other thistles.

And so just when things had gotten the worst for the thistle he left, and found his kind, and unbounded happiness, just over a hill.
-The End-

Take from that what you will. If you haven't already be sure to read yesterday's guest blog and head over to Brittany's page www.rhapsodizingmoments.blogspot.com where you can read all the other great things she has to say and see the guest blog that I wrote posted there. As always, feel free to leave a comment, reading them is often more fun than posting.


brittany michelle said...

oh, i am loving this thistle! i'm impressed.

AmberInGlass said...

Thanks, Brittany!

eden tyler said...

i'll read this later after i eat supper...i just wanted to stop by and thank you for checking out giveagirlapen.com!!

we have guys visit, as well.
if you'd like to write a guest blog, either email me or dm me on twitter or whatever...
we'd love to have your take on any part of writing you can come up with!! :D

Anonymous said...

nice read, thanks for it...reminds me of a fable.

Uninvoked said...

Aww, I liked it. ^^ It's very sweet.

eden tyler said...

this is so cute!
i normally don't write or read 'happy ending' type of stories, so it's nice to run across one.
Thanks :D

AmberInGlass said...

Thank you everyone for the compliments, I'm glad it could be enjoyed.

Jennifer, I don't think I really set out to write a fable when I started it, but the end result did almost become one, I think. I was pretty happy with the results.

Eden, I don't normally, or often, read or write anything along this nature either. It marked such a strange departure from my usual style. Yet for some reason writing this piece was incredibly enjoyable. When I was finished, and thought that I had almost accomplished giving such a silly tale about a thistle a moral, I was quite pleased with the results.

Even now, after alot of time has went by, I still find this particular piece rewarding somehow. I've heard it said before that writers shouldn't limit themselves to just one style all the time, and I guess there is something true to that saying, I certainly never expected to enjoy something this silly.

Uninvoked, thank you, for the compliment, it did turn out a bit sweet didn't it? I'm not even sure what I set out to do when I started writing it, I was just making it up as I went along, but in my own opinion, I think it went well, and am glad others think so too.

Rebecca said...

as always great work, I'm sorry I haven't been posting like i should I wish I was, but great work done with this one.

FAble or not, it's funny.

AmberInGlass said...

Thanks, Rebecca. Don't worry about it, all of us are busy right now.