A micro-fiction story of maximum 150 words, I contributed to Ad Hoc Fiction, using the word “spring”.
Spring arrived early. Unprepared, I shed my winter clothes. In the garden, daisies greeted me, along with poppies and dandelions. I checked the seeds of hope I’d planted in November. Little green shoots displayed their leaves and tiny buds with pride.
Like my youth, Spring passed in a flash and became Summer, my middle-age. I didn’t mind the heat, though it slowed me down. Wearing shades under the canopy, I created shadows where I could enjoy the multi-coloured blooms of the Bougainvillaea. Attractive vines that thrive in strong sunlight, and need little water. I decided to imitate them, and protect myself with thorns against unwelcome visitors. But it was too late.
When Autumn arrived, I planted my seeds again, before winter confined me indoors. A pessimist in darkness, I asked myself, “How many more times can I do this?”
The hyacinth bulb by window answered, “Until you learn.”