Fucking weeds. Just when the flowers were to bloom, they showed up in the garden-right under the plants he had been watering all along. He had spent days together plucking them out but the weeds knew some sort of trick, he thought. Every time he would finish cleaning them up, they would reappear at the same place. There was this one time when he was cleaning the weeds, a pruning saw ran through his fingernails, accidentally. As blood was dripping onto the plant, he just wished it made the roses turn a shade redder. Silly him.
One fine morning he got this brilliant idea. He should probably burn the weeds to death-once for all. Trying to protect the roses, he decided to take care of a small section at a time. He lit the fire and zap came a gust of wind, like it was hiding somewhere waiting to come out at that moment. The plant was on fire. Moments later he saw the roses shrinking with the fire creeping slowly onto the petals. The roses were changing colour. They were not red anymore. In the fire and smoke, he saw something he had never seen before- a bunch of black roses.
One fine morning he got this brilliant idea. He should probably burn the weeds to death-once for all. Trying to protect the roses, he decided to take care of a small section at a time. He lit the fire and zap came a gust of wind, like it was hiding somewhere waiting to come out at that moment. The plant was on fire. Moments later he saw the roses shrinking with the fire creeping slowly onto the petals. The roses were changing colour. They were not red anymore. In the fire and smoke, he saw something he had never seen before- a bunch of black roses.
