I know I've seen more than enough people fall down on the ground. But it was that time that I finally saw a change, an impact in what I did. I had just finished a war when I realized I needed some time off. I was badly injured, and when I would normally just heal myself, I decided to take a step back and stay where I belong for a while. Home. In my loneliness where I could sleep at ease. But it was that one kid.
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I don't remember what his name was, but he just seemed so innocent, when he gave me that weird flower. It was not your typical white or red rose, but instead a frighteningly black flower, as if the soul of the plant was taken out and replaced with a couple of shadows. Dark as a grave. I've no idea why he would do that, but I took it, happy that I received a present. Then he called me something. "Hero". The one thing I am not. My smile vanished, and so did I. But I received another flower, this time it was white. As if the black one were cleaned. Washed with water and purified. I took it as well.
Then an old lady knocked at my door and gave me a dripping red flower. I became shocked, because my first thoughts were that she doused it with her own blood. I stepped back, and the moment I did, she fell cold in front of me, her hand releasing the grip on the red rose.
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