First lines of short/contemp fairy tale/dark romantic-dramedy. How does it fair? #curious
|There was once a young woman named Petila who owned a small flat in one of the big cities of the world. She was a rather peculiar woman. Flowers were her passion. Oh, how she loved flowers! All types of flowers in fact."Roses, gardenias, lilies, orchids, daisies... sun flowers!" she would relate in high spirits to just about any one willing to listen when she spoke of her favorite things. Ah, yes... she loved them all.
"Flowers! Flowers! Get your fresh flowers!" she rang bright and gaily every morning as people walked into her small, dainty and brightly colored flower shop; because she owned one of those too.
Petila loved everything small. Small spaces, small things..., simple things! Perhaps the root of her flowery disposition. "Small. Small and simple! Yes! That is me!" she reassured from time to time with a flashing smile adorned by her long strawberry blond hair, a doll-like face sprinkled in freckles, sunny green-brown eyes framed in big 80's style glasses..., and draped in the usual flower dress. Like most every other small thing, flowers kept her life easy as pie. She also loved pie...
"I don't need another thing in this world, as long as I have my flowers!" she would always tell her help maid Fern; a drab and strange young woman like Petila who never uttered a word but simply nodded frailly from an uncommonly disagreeable confection of fashions, dark shoulder length hair that almost covered her face, pale skin and eyes as big and somber as black holes. Naturally, Petila loved Fern's simple, if not cryptic nature, just as well.
*to be continued*