Vieda Vampa and The Mother of Flowers

By Andrew Lysaught

Vieda Vampa sees something – a crack, a brightness; the surface.

The light hits Vieda Vampa’s eyes and a rush of unusual smells run up her nose, and her ears fill with enchanting echoes. She is out of breath, hungry, and tired, but grateful to have her head out of the dirt.

“What a struggle,” she thinks to herself.

A steaming yellow ball of honey petals looks down upon Vieda Vampa. Its sunny rays shinning upon her make the young stem feel awake and full of energy.

Thick tall grass surrounds Vieda Vampa in the distance, like a green picket-fence. She notices a caterpillar holding onto a thick piece of grass as the wind blows in the field of spiky purple buds and small yellow flowers, big dandelions, tall cattails, huge dragonflies, even larger butterflies, and a single-lone cactus, skinny and unprotected, surround her.

There is a cliff, standing giant-like behind Vieda Vampa, with many fat trees covered in ivy. She marvels at their vast web branches and wide green leaves. Their heavy roots melt down the side of the cliff, caressingly. They are the Elder Sweet Gum and Cottonwood trees.

Bees fly overhead. None decide to play with Vieda Vampa; still a little blossom-less sprout. The bees instead decide to dance with the beautifully purple and yellow blowing flowers.

“Why am I not a silly bright flower yet?” Vieda Vampa wonders out loud to herself.

Beneath her she can feel, with her long roots, the heat of insects crawling in the soil, and the vibrations of baby bunnies resting underground, bundled together in their ball of grey cotton.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly, a giant black and blue thing on two legs is running towards her, its hair wild and frizzy like an untamed lioness, and eyes dark orange like the setting sun. The tall creature wheezingly stomps on everything in its path, its paws are black, hairless, and narrow.

The mysterious animal clumsily collapses under the shade of the cliff. It wears a wide olive green summer hat with an ocean clear bow wrapped around its crown, and baggy, ripped blue-jean overalls covered in mud.

There is a trickle of water falling from the rocks of the cliff. The colorful critter puts its head under the water and lets the droplets roll down the edges of its dark neck and mane.

Then, as if rising like a dazed butterfly from a cocoon, the big beast gets up and rips grass, bush leaves, mushrooms, and cattails out of the ground and shoves them into the bow wrapped around its hat.

Vieda Vampa begins to imagine that she too is chosen to be atop of that olive crown with the other rooted things, roped in tight by the clear blue bow, and free to go anywhere.

Strugglingly, Vieda Vampa tries to take one of her roots out of the hard dirt. She can feel them move and loosen some, but it is no use, she is stuck.

Next the belly of the sky begins to grumble. It shakes everything and Vieda Vampa’s heart nearly stops. The roar comes again; this time louder and angrier. Dark clouds cover the sun. The wind grows restless and frightened.

A flash of yellow teeth rip through the darkness. There is silence. Then Vieda Vampa heard a “Boom,” and a thousand whips crack across all the land. “Boom, Crack, Bang!”

With another blaze Vieda Vampa sees the Elder Sweet Gum and Cottonwood trees lying in pieces scattered in the meadow being licked by red lines. They are burning and the yellow tongues climb. Vieda Vampa shuts her eyes. She wants to run, but is still frozen to the earth.

A mighty pull from the wind tries to pluck Vieda Vampa from the ground. Her roots entangle themselves in the vast roots of all the other plants in the field surrounding her. She wraps herself in them for protection, for strength, for love.

Without warning the rain stops. Vida Vampa’s eyes open. All is calm. Morning comes.

The Elder Sweet Gum and Cottonwood trees are shipwrecked on the ground below their cliff. The cactus is standing tall where it has always been. During the storm Vieda Vampa felt his roots the tightest. He is a gentle soul.

Looking up Vieda Vampa sees a waterfall of color in the sky, like petals from all the beautiful flowers resting on top of one another. It is a rainbow; her first.

Then Vieda Vampa hears something familiar. A tumbling, a rumbling. The giant black and blue thing has returned! The bow still flowing on its olive crown. A round sack is slung around the tall creature’s back, stalks of straw stink out from the top and others poke through the bottom.

She places the straw around all the wet, cut, and exposed roots. The mud is thick and dark, but it is soon dried up with the straw and makes all the plants feel like they are being tucked into bed.

Lovingly, the mysterious animal plants straw all around Vieda Vampa. It looks directly into Vieda Vampa’s eyes and whispers in her ear, “Oh, little tree, the fresh soil will return soon. Don’t you worry!” Kissing Vieda Vampa on her cheek, the big beast ties its ocean clear bow around Vieda Vampa’s smooth brown waist.

The colorful critter reaches into her sack of straw and pulls out a handful of seeds, and throws them in every direction, yelling joyously, “Daisies and sunflowers! Sweet Gum candies and lollipops!”

There is a heart engraved in the crusty bark of one of the fallen Elder SweetGum trees with the initials “P+A” still visible on its once unmovable thick trunk. Its brown barbered pine fruit droop relaxingly over the carving as a small bird feeds on the seeds.

A strong western breeze waves Vieda Vampa’s beautiful ocean clear bow in the sunlight. Millions of fuzzy white specks float down from atop the cliff, like a storm of tail feathers, from the still standing Elder Cottonwood trees. They paint the sky. One of the seeds lands on Vieda Vampa’s chin. She blows it off and smiles as she watches the cactus become coated in white pieces of cloud.

 

This flower cannot tell the battle from the dance. You: earth and light, know that there is only the dance.

I talk to flowers. Why not say: Flower, you are beautiful. I mean,why leave it to only thought?

A flower is my mind set to music. When you hear the ground’s stomach grumbling, hold onto nothing but the song you are: Golden rose and misty blue and lilac – I sing to Nature’s quality: “You’ll have your sweet morsel soon!”

This is indeed the dance of existence.

 

- Total nr. of readings: 1,598 Copyright © The author [2020] All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the author except for personal use.