The Cost of a Carnation
by Danielle R. Morrison
part 1
It was a pink craft bead with silver specks of glitter. The bead was the size of the palm of Quinn’s mossy green, delicate hand, the hole in the center almost wide enough for her to wear as a plastic fashion bracelet. She tossed it in the air, softly squealing as the glitter dully shone when it hit the rays of the rising sun. With a low grunt, she hoisted it above her head, inspecting for imperfections. Much to her delight, it was immaculate.
To trade, Quinn had left for Oliver, the gardener, three gray smooth, tumbled rocks she had found by the lake at the overlook. Although Oliver had never seen her, he was a man who traded fairly with her quite often in the week. Clearly familiar with the rules of the fae, he was always so careful to never say the words thank you. He was a man who respected them and their culture.
“I love the rocks, faerie friend,” he quietly called to the wind. “You are always so kind. Next time, I’ll bring a sugary treat.”
Quinn shook her fists in excitement and flew off through the bushes to find her sister.
“Alexia!” she shouted into the vegetable garden where her sister often worked. With a swift stomp on the ground, she launched herself into the air, her translucent, dragonfly-like wings quickly fluttering and humming behind her.
“What is it now?” Alexia was deep in the carrot beds, dirt up to her elbows. She was never kind when disturbed while hard at work.
“Look what Oliver got me!” She held her arm high above her head and wiggled the bead around her wrist.
Alexia’s head popped up from behind the emerald leaves of carrots, her white-blonde hair tangling itself in the foliage. “It’s not even real jewelry.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you really going to wear that thing?”
Quinn shook it again, admiring the glitter from the sunlight. “Of course! It’s still so pretty.”
Alexia flew above the carrots to fully confront her little sister. “Are you going to tend to the bromeliads today or not? They’re wilting now, and I don’t have the time to do your work for you again today.”
“I’ll ask Marcus to do it. I’m going scouting for more humans to exchange gifts with!”
Before Quinn could fly off, Alexia reached over and grabbed the tip of her wing. With a snap of her wrist, she flung her backwards, almost forcing her to the ground. “Will you let it go? Humans are not worth your energy.”
Quinn was tired of hearing this same lecture over and over again. “I know you don’t like humans, but I think they’re great. If one ever does me wrong, you know I’ll take care of it.”
With a dramatic sigh, Alexia let go of her wing. “You know, if you put this much energy into the garden work as you do with observing the worst species on the planet, think of how lovely this botanical garden would be.”
Before Quinn could retort, her pointed ears perked up at the sound of incoming footsteps. Judging by the soft rumble of the gravel from the main path and ear-shattering squeaks of shoes, a human was on their way to them. “A new friend!” she said. “Wish me luck!”
Whizzing through the brambles of trees that acted as a fence between the vegetable and herb gardens, Quinn perched on a high branch at the top of the tree to watch. A human girl was obliviously snapping photos of the snapdragons on her phone, not noticing Quinn watching her from above.
Careful not to be spotted, Quinn circled overhead as the bright pink and white flowers kept the girl distracted. As she walked and took photos, Quinn continued overhead down the main path, deeper into the garden, where the three-tier marble wishing fountain was. After a quick aerial glide around the fountain, Quinn placed the pink craft bead on the wide bottom tier, strategically placed to the right of the black and gold dedication plate where the color was a stark enough contrast. She found another overhanging branch to watch.
The girl beelined past the white and yellow roses to the fountain, as Quinn predicted she would. The pink bead sat untouched as she ignored the dedication plate to admire the purple roses on the opposite side of the fountain.
As the girl meandered away, Quinn quickly soared to the fountain, scooping the bead with both of her hands. To give her anxious wings a rest, she sat cross-legged on a yellow rose behind her as the girl continued through the roses, moving towards the white wooden gazebo. Quinn held the bead tight against the deep rise and fall of her chest, gripping it with her trembling hands.
The girl sat on a bench in the gazebo and scrolled through the pictures on her phone and snacking on what looked like a granola bar. Quinn begrudgingly picked herself up from her sitting position and launched herself off the rock. Her wings buzzed in irritation as she went to the gazebo.
To continue avoiding being seen, Quinn kept her body close to the lattice under the gazebo and above the ground, careful not to touch the dark mildew creeping up the paint. Slowly, she fluttered herself upwards, so only the top half of her snowy hair could be seen if the human girl had lifted her head up from her phone. Quinn gently pushed the bead onto the bench, careful not to make a sound to get the girl’s full attention.
A strong gust of wind swept through, pushing the bead to the floor of the gazebo.
The soft plink of the bead broke the girl’s concentration. As her head perked up to look for the source of the sound, Quinn dove for cover through the lattice and under the floor. The creaking wood reverberated in her ears as the human scraped the bead up from the floor.
Quinn flew out of the lattice and around the back of the gazebo where she could observe the girl unnoticed from behind. She hung her head from the roof and watched the girl upside down in case the girl decided to look around her for the source of the present.
The tiny pink bead looked like a nipped flower bud in her hands, small and dainty in the center of her palm. Without a smile or gesture of gratitude, she shoved the bead into her pocket and skipped down the stairs, leaving a granola bar wrapper wedged between floorboards as she headed towards the camellias.
Quinn was stunned. She watched and waited for the girl to return with a fair trade and to pick up her trash, but the girl hadn’t even looked behind her as she kept walking. Cheeks red, Quinn hurried off to find her.
She followed discreetly behind the girl, hiding in all her usual spots to remain out of human view. As she watched the girl take photos of the orange and banana trees, Quinn munched on some blueberries in a nearby bush. On her final bite of berry, the girl reached high above her head and yanked an orange off the tree. She dug her fingernails into the peel and ripped it open, leaving trails of orange pieces as she walked.
How dare she! Quinn thought. That’s for us, not for you.
When the fruit was finished, the girl rested in the shade by the overlook, shielding her eyes from the blazing sun. The brown and green swampy water sloshed towards her from the gentle breeze. She meditatively ran her hands along the smooth bamboo behind her head. Behind the bamboo trees, Quinn’s anger was rising like smoke from a forest fire.
The sun was setting, casting angelic golden rays in between pink and orange wispy clouds in the sky. The human dug into her bag and pulled out a plastic water bottle. She popped the cap open and chugged it down until the bottle was completely empty. As she closed her bag and pushed herself to stand, she tossed the bottle into the swamp. The sudden movement of the water scared a nearby turtle in his afternoon snooze.
To have the audacity to not only take her gift and her food, but to litter in her garden? Quinn resisted the urge to scream. The lack of appreciation for not only her kindness but the beauty and tranquility of her garden was too much for Quinn to bear.
Going over the girl’s head, she flew briskly down the path to the end, where the giant clock topiary stood. Using her magic, Quinn quickly grew a faery ring at the base of the clock. The mushrooms that formed the circular formation were plump and tall, leaving an earthy smell in the air. The ring contrasted perfectly with the rainbow carnations that moved from top to bottom of the topiary. It couldn’t be missed.
Copyright © 2022 by Danielle R. Morrison
