Faded Flowers (a short story)

I'm currently taking a creative writing class and this is the first short story we had to write. We didn't have a prompt, so I just wrote what was on my heart.

Without meaning to, I wrote this story about keeping someone's memory alive. I guess you could say it is in honor of Charlie Kirk because I could not help but think about him while writing.

I really love this story, and I hope you like it too! (:

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The flowers died on Monday, and so did my memory of Grandmother. I was wiping down the counters of Elle’s Bakery when I realized I no longer remembered what she smelled like or how her voice sounded. I no longer remembered what time she would read her Bible every afternoon, or what her favorite cookies to bake were. The only thing I remembered about Grandmother was her kindness. The way she made sure everyone was happy when they visited her home. She always had fresh lemonade made in case someone came over. Any other memories of her were a blur in my mind, and it made me want to cry. However, crying wasn’t an option in the middle of a bakery where customers were trying to enjoy the peace and quiet of the day. 

I peeked behind the counter to see if my boss, Ellery, was paying attention, only to see she was busy with a customer. I threw my rag down, making my way to the bathroom as the tears began to fall. The only thing Grandmother wanted before she died was to be remembered, and I’d failed miserably at even recalling what I did know about her. 

I looked at my face in the mirror, using a paper towel to wipe the tears from my cheeks. Then I quickly made my way out of the bathroom, grabbing the vase of wilted flowers sitting on an empty table in the bakery. Every customer’s attention focused on me as I chucked the flowers in the trash, carrying the vase to the back of the building. 

Before I could rinse the vase out and ask Ellery if I could make a trip down the road for more flowers, she appeared behind me, concern written on her face. 

“Casey? Is something wrong? Why did I just watch you throw those flowers away like they were your worst enemy?” 

I sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a scene. It’s just—” I paused, not sure if I really wanted to tell her what was wrong, but the look on her face made me decide otherwise. “My grandmother died a month ago, and she asked me not to forget her, to keep her memory alive. I realized just now that I’ve already started to forget her, and I don’t know if I can live with that.”

Ellery crossed her arms together. “Why don’t you come up with a way to keep her memory alive, then?” She suggested. “If it’s as important to you as it was to your grandmother, then you would find a way to do exactly what she wanted. After all, it’s only when we get too busy to remember something that we truly forget it. So don’t let yourself get too busy and think about your grandmother too.”

I nodded, thanking Ellery for telling me exactly what I needed to hear. Before she could walk back to the front of the bakery, I asked, “Is it okay if I run down to the supermarket and get some fresh flowers? I feel bad throwing the dead ones away and not replacing them with new ones.”

She nodded, and I set the empty vase down, grabbing my purse before heading out to the street. As I walked, I thought of ways to remember my grandmother, but nothing stood out to me. 

I walked through the sliding doors of the market, heading straight for the flowers. I made a mental note of the combination of flowers I could choose as I walked, deciding a new arrangement would make the bakery feel fresh and maybe even more welcoming. 

In another life, I would be a florist, always coming up with the most beautiful flower arrangements. It was one of my favorite things to do. I knew almost every type of flower and which ones looked best together. It was my dream to give people bouquets for special occasions that would make them smile. 

As the smell of flowers seeped into my nose, I took note of each color and kind sitting on the display case in front of me. There were pansies, daffodils, roses, cosmos, lilies, daisies, sunflowers, carnations, and even more. The selection in front of me was almost overwhelming, but I was so happy that I didn’t even notice 

the commotion unfolding at the front of the store. 

All of a sudden, there was a clatter as a display case of peaches tumbled to the ground. The culprit, a short, gangly teenage boy, looked at the mess in front of him, shock on his face. As the shopowner made his way over, the boy looked around for an escape, as if he didn’t want to own up to what he did. 

Before the shopowner could reach him, the boy made a run for it, making it out of the store before anyone could catch him.

“That’s it!” the shopowner cried, pulling out his phone. “I’m calling the police!” 

Momentarily forgetting about the flowers, I rushed over to help a few other shoppers pick up the peaches littering the ground. As I helped clean up, I heard the owner telling someone that the kid had already stolen things from the store twice that week, and he had yet to catch him.

“Excuse me?” I asked, abandoning the peaches to talk to the owner. “Why haven’t you been able to catch him, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

The owner, a tall man with black hair, looked at me, a curious expression on his face. “I guess I haven’t tried hard enough, and I felt bad for him. I wanted to let him get away with it the first time because I knew he needed what he stole. After that, I have no more room for remorse. He must be stopped before he steals everything in my store!” 

With the information given to me by the owner, an idea was forming in my mind. I returned to the flowers, picking out the perfect bouquet to convey the message I wanted to send. 

A few moments later, I left the store with fresh flowers and a heart for kindness. I scanned the block, wondering where the boy from the supermarket could have gone. The police hadn’t shown up yet, so he was probably lying low nearby, unless he’d already made it across town. 

I almost headed back to the bakery when I heard the sound of someone crying from the alleyway on my right. I looked around, wondering if it was a good idea to go down there. What if it wasn’t safe to go on my own?

I clutched a piece of my hair, heading down the alleyway with the hope of finding who I was looking for. When I saw the thief from the store, I knew I’d made the right decision.

“Hello!” I called in a friendly tone, hoping I wouldn’t scare him away. He peered up at me as I stopped in my tracks. A half-eaten peach was in one hand, and a fresh bruise was forming on his face. “Are you alright? Did you get that just now?”

He raised an eyebrow at me when he realized what I meant.

“Yeah. Some homeless guy tried to steal my stuff. I couldn’t let him get away with it because this is all I have.” He gestured to the small backpack sitting beside him. “Are you here to turn me in to the police?”

“Not exactly,” I replied, pulling out a bouquet of daffodils, white tulips, and purple hyacinths. As I handed it to him, I mentioned, “The daffodils represent new beginnings, the white tulips are innocence, and the purple hyacinths mean forgiveness. They’re a reminder that we can live life regretting the things we do, or we can forgive ourselves and choose the path we’ve always wanted.”

He stared at the flowers, then me, confusion written all over his face. “Are you saying that I don’t have to live on the streets stealing things for the rest of my life?” 

I nodded, giving him a small smile. “There’s more to life than taking what isn’t yours because you don’t know what else to do. If you’ll let me, I want to help you get your life back on track. It can’t be fun waiting for the police to catch you all the time.”

He looked surprised for a second, but a grin quickly came over his face. He reached a hand out for me to shake. “I’m Aaron.”

I shook his hand, smiling back. “Casey.”

A few weeks later, I set down a fresh vase of forget-me-nots, red poppies, and pink orchids on a table. Then I glanced at the picture of my grandmother hanging on one wall of Elle’s Bakery, surrounded by portraits of other people. People who had passed away and the families who wanted to remember them.

Realizing I was starting to forget my grandmother was the moment I understood that it was up to me to keep her memory alive. I would be the reason she was forgotten if I didn’t do something about it. Meeting Aaron, a kid who didn’t know what it was like to have memories of his past because he’d grown up an orphan, showed me how important memories were.

I was thankful for the memories I still had, and the best way to keep those memories alive was to invite people to help me fill a wall of the bakery with photographs of those who had been lost. My grandmother wasn’t the only one who deserved to be remembered. 

I was lost in thought, looking at the pictures in front of me, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

“How’s it going?” Aaron asked, holding a plate of muffins out for me. He’d been working at the bakery for a few weeks, and thanks to Ellery’s kindness, he finally had a place to call home.

I looked at him, then took a muffin. “It’s actually going really well. The wall looks amazing, and there are no longer faded flowers or faded memories.”

I took a bite of the muffin, and Aaron said, “I see you have a different combination of flowers. What does this bouquet mean?”

I chuckled, a bright smile flooding my face. “It means that no one who has a place in our hearts should be forgotten, even when time passes and life goes on. There should always be a reason to remember someone you love.”