A Fantastical Conversation

A Fantastical Conversation

I

What brings you here, mortal? 

The unbearable sweetness of a certain scent that I could touch and see and smell; better than the finest of treasures across nations and more satiable than any game. That, sir, is what led me here– pulled– me here. It evoked all emotions in me, making my heart burst into a flame that if I shall not follow it, I would die of the heat in me. It pierced me, with just one wave of its drunken aroma and here I am, a humble devotee of it, ready to forego everything to see what it is that can move a man as I.

II

Who are you, may I ask? Are you a god? 

God? What is that? Whatever that is, I am not. 

A guardian, perhaps?  

A guardian?  Guarding what? 

I don’t know; the flowers, I suppose? They are beautiful. I reckon anyone would want to steal them or own them. 

Yes, they are beautiful. But I am not a guardian.  

Then what are you? 

What am I, huh? I am a person. 

No, I mean. Why are you here, if you aren’t a god of the flowers or the guardian of the flowers?  

I am here because I was assigned to be here. 

Who would be so powerful to be able to do that?  

I don’t know. 

Who asked you to be here?  

I can’t remember. All I know is I have to be here. 

Okay, so what do you do?  

I weed out the hill. 

There are lots of weeds growing here, sir; a mighty lot. Are you not doing what you are to do?  

I remove certain sort of weeds, only those I am asked to remove. 

Do you tend to the flowers? 

Not quite, but I watch them. It is in my presence that they bloom and blossom and it is under my very eyes that they wilt and die.  

Wilt! Why don’t you fertilise and water them?  Why would you allow such a heinous thing?  

Because I am not a gardener. I have only been assigned to remove the weeds that show up, and to witness the span of the lives of the flowers. Just watch. That is all. 

III

Have you encountered anyone else here?  

Several. Several men and women like you have been here. 

Ha! I knew it, I couldn’t have been the only one who could see the beauty of it. 

Yes, you are right. 

So, how much are you willing to give me one single flower for? I am willing to go to the bloody moneylender if you should be willing to sell it to me. 

The flowers are not for sale. 

Listen here, I’m being real nice about it. Tell me quick what price must I pay to have one. 

They are far too expensive for a mere mortal as you.  

Ha, you don’t say! Wait—you’re not even the real owner, are you? 

No, I am not. 

You bloody cheat! Take me to the owner of the flowers this instant.

I can’t do that.

You’re getting on my nerves! I say take me to the owner right now, or I shall make sure that you are very sorry for it. 

I already feel sorry. 

IV 

There isn’t an owner. 

Oh, god– really-

But there are several owners. Each flower belongs to a certain person.  

So, you’re telling me that this is basically public property? 

Rightly so. 

Then I can take any flower I please?  

Yes. But you really shouldn’t do that.  

Pfft- oh please. What a wet advice to give, I am returning with one. 

You may take any of these, if you please. However, you shouldn’t do that.  

V

Am I really not going to be stopped?  

I have no right to stop you. But I can tell you that these flowers don’t come for free.

Which is why I am ready to pay you or anyone any bloody amount! 

That’s a trade of greed for greed. 

What nonsense! – this isn’t greed, this is the love for beauty. 

This generation has twisted everything good to fit their own purposes. 

Don’t act so old, you look as young as the prince. Don’t be so hard to talk to, just one won’t make the hill any ugly.  

Do as you please. 

You said they don’t belong to one specific person. Just one won’t kill anyone. 

Oh, you wish.  

VI

So long and good night.  

No, goodbye. 


Niangthianmuang S Ngaihte
Niangthianmuang S Ngaihte

Niangthianmuang writes riveting poetry and captivating short stories.

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