“There once lived a king with a fabulous kingdom. All he desired was beauty, and so he sought his lands for the prettiest things.”
Summer smacked an obnoxious mosquito, bug guts staining her leggings. Wiping the mark off as best she could, she continued climbing the various boulders that marred the outskirts of Ireland. Golden light highlighted the vibrant green of the leaves and brush. Wildlife scattered with every slam of her boots.
How she hated the outdoors. Hated her parents for month-long camping trips. It was always about the pretty stars and the rushing river. They were ignorant of the bugs and poison ivy. And the bears, humidity, rocks. Basic hygiene. She couldn’t move out soon enough.
Yet here she was, wandering in the woods once more. Suffering the same atrocities for the sake of a fairytale.
“One day, the great king stumbled upon a cave on the outskirts of his kingdom. Inside was a wondrous flower, blue as the clearest ocean and green as the summer grass. He picked the flower without recourse, not realizing the terror he’d unleashed.”
The tale whispered in the trees as Summer hiked her backpack up her shoulders. Years of studying biochemistry now hung in the balance. A single dissertation would make or break her future. As the top of her class, her professor expected something groundbreaking. A research project that would shift the globe.
What if she wanted to shatter the earth at a later date? She paused, taking a breath before her blood boiled. That’s how she got into this mess.
Hot headed, she had complained to her peers. Tamara then questioned why she didn’t seek a disease unknown to man. Summer’s enraged mind blindly sought a response, clinging to a story she’d heard as a little girl. Wrapped in a cerulean quilt, her mother would revel in the downfall of a kingdom to a flower.
Why had she mentioned the outlandish legend? Backed into a corner of her own making, Summer had researched historical tragedies to find one that matched the tale. One within the depths of Ireland seemed to correlate to the tale of the verdigris.
“The king planted the flower in a valley. After some time, it spread through the grasslands and into the kingdom. The people were awed by its beauty. Until sickness overtook the livestock. As food became scarce, the people tried to eat the flowers. Cerulean spots covered their bodies as they suffered for five days before suffocating in their sleep.
“Fearing the loss of his kingdom, the king commanded that the flower be burned. Soldiers overtook the countryside, setting fire to the fields. The beautiful flowers withered and died, but this heroic act was too late. For the kingdom had suffered to greatly, and even the king fell ill to his desires.”
Hopefully her mother had told the story wrong and there was still a patch of this deadly flower. If it ever existed.
A bug buzzed past her ear, making her flinch. Removing her map, she stared helplessly at the area she’d highlighted as ground zero. Yet this supposed clearing was nowhere to be–
Her foot slipped. Tumbling through thorns and coarse earth, Summer tried to stop her momentum. But down she went. Snapping branches, the fluttering of wings.
She collided with the ground, face in soft grass. Head spinning, she blinked away spots. Sunlight seared her skin. Mountains sat on the horizon, no longer blocked by the forests.
Grunting painfully, she pushed herself upright. Yellow and pink flowers dotted the valley. But their sweet smell didn’t mend her bruised ego. Or body.
A few more moans got Summer onto her feet and glaring at the shimmering field. Looking back, she discovered the trench she’d dug with her fall. Upturned dirt held modern treasures like her backpack, water bottle, and magnifying glass.
“Should’ve paid the guide,” she muttered while gathering her belongings. Map torn and twisted, she tried to decipher what she’d been reading earlier. Then again, she could wishfully believe she was in the right spot. Fairytales always tended to favor wishes.
Summer snickered, “I’m really losing my mind over this.” Folding the map, she removed her phone and hoped for a signal. None.
Marvelous.
“Forward then.” She walked through the field, simply wishing. Wishing she’d paid better attention when her parents told her things. Wishing she didn’t open her big mouth so much. Wishing she’d let Patrick tagalong instead of calling him a creep. Actually, that one was accurate, but at least he would’ve been interesting company. And would’ve happily carried everything.
An ear-splitting snap emanated from her boot. A tiny spine had been reduced to ash, the squirrel skull glaring at her. Gagging, Summer stepped around it.
And onto the leg of another squirrel. Little skeletons hid amongst the tall grass. The blossoming flowers masked the slight smell of decay as fur and muscle decayed. Covering her nose, Summer took a closer look. Large spots covered the deteriorating skin.
Her eyes widened. “No way.” Tiptoeing around the carcasses, she silently thanked her mother for all the crazy stories. And wondered how many more were true.
The tall grass flattened around a single patch of plants. Blue as clear oceans and green as spring, the flower resembled an indigo plant. Yet the stems of small flowers seemed to glitter with poisonous energy.
Delight and horror bubbled in Summer as she stared at the verdigris. A flower that shouldn’t exist but somehow survived. That degree was as good as hers.