What happens?

The world was lost. No one will remember the losing or the finding of it. No one but the person who somehow managed both. No one but me. I will not introduce myself as many other narrators do at the beginning of many other fantastical and wonderful stories.

I have two reasons for my anonymity. The first is I want to keep this account as accurate as possible and I believe putting personal details in will only muck things up. The second is that if this ends up jogging anyone’s memory, though this should not be possible, I do not want anyone coming to my home and asking questions for the press and other sources who may want the information. I have told you all the background information I need to and will now begin the telling of my story.

It was the 21st of June in a year that would be considered modern to whenever you are reading this passage. It started as any fantastical and wonderful story does, on a seemingly normal day. The sun shone down, making pavement and the vinyl of car seats hot to the touch. I had managed to sit down at a cafe before the seats of the slatted, metal chair became too hot to do so. I had not been to this cafe before nor had I noticed it on my regular commutes to other restaurants. I thought it must have just opened within the last few days.

It was quite a lovely little place. A two story brickwork construction with large arched windows from which all manner of plants spilled out of. I could not see the pots that the makeshift jungle sprouted but I imagined anyone living in said jungle would have one hell of a time making their way through it. Even when I had gone in to order my tea I had nearly tripped on several pots holding several flashy types of tropical looking flowers. A quick bit of footwork on my part saved the vibrant petals from their demise.

When I looked up and gave the person working the counter an apologetic smile they gave no reaction. I found this a bit odd. Most people would at least flash a fake one back in some kind of reassurance but they did not seem to think this was necessary. In fact, they seemed rather annoyed. Why would they be annoyed? I wondered to myself. Surely no one would want their houseplants trampled. Unless it was some kind of trend I did not know about. Perhaps stomping upon house plants was in. Anyways, I ordered my drink and sat down outside.

All of the umbrellas that had been set up seemed to be protecting the plants rather than any of the seating. I still found a somewhat shady spot and began to enjoy my drink. I was the only one who seemed to have time to sit. All the other passersby didn’t even give the tangle of greenery one look. All were moving too fast or were too focused on their own lives to notice anyone or anything else around them.

I have always wondered how often people actually think about other people's lives and interests. Other people’s wants and needs. Their struggles and accomplishments. It is natural for people to think only for themselves. We are taught to. Hands to yourself. Keep your eyes on your own paper. Their problems are none of your business. It is only natural that we retain these lessons taught to us when we are young. That is how we learn and retain everything else. Maybe I’m the only one who thought like that at that moment. There it is again. That self focus. How odd. And sad. It is rather sad that so often we cannot think of anyone but ourselves.

I absentmindedly took a drink of tea.

“Shit!” I exclaimed.

It was still far too hot. I picked up the napkin that came with the beverage, dipped it in, took it out, blew on it until it was cold and pressed it against my lip and tongue in a way to soothe the burn. My gaze wandered as the cloth pressed against my skin began to warm. Something caught my eye half way up the set of ground floor windows. A spot of darkness against the green leaves. I focused on it, setting the napkin back on the table.

It was a black flower. This itself is not entirely uncommon. I had seen black flowers before, having several amateur botanists in the family. So, I wondered, why did this one seem so odd. I stood up and made my way through the maze of pots and stems till it was a few inches away. It hung off its stem just below eye level so once I got close enough I could easily inside its petals which hid the inside of the flower from view. And what I saw took my breath away. A swirling nebula of color.

I had the sudden need to pick it. Snap it from its stem and take it with me. I had been staring at it so intensely that I hadn’t noticed that the person from behind the counter had stepped up next to me. I jumped when they spoke.

“Pretty. Isn’t it?”

I realized I had not heard them speak when I was ordering my drink. Their voice gave me chills. Like something was wrapping around me and had no intention of letting go.

“I don’t think pretty does it justice.” My eyes strayed back to the black beauty. It seemed almost a crime to take my eyes off of it. “More like magnificent or maybe enchanting.” As I said the last word I had raised my open hands and shook them as if I were casting a spell. The worker did not look the slightest bit interested in my jazz hands. I lowered them, feeling rather self conscious.

“This is called a night rider lily.” They spoke in a bored monotone. “It is supposed to be all black but it must be some kind of mutant.” Their eyes shifted to me with interest that had not been there a second before. “Do you want it?”

I started.

“No, no.” I said hurriedly. “It’s so beautiful and I don’t want to ruin it for anyone else who might enjoy it as much as I have.”

Anger flashed on the face in front of me and then was gone, replaced with uncaring.

“No one will enjoy it as much as you. It is a silly flower and we plan to cut it tomorrow.”

I was horrified.

“Why? Why can’t you just leave it?” It seemed so unfair.

“I already said. You are obviously not the right person so leave.” Anger crept back into their voice.

Suddenly I was also angry. This horrible person was just going to kill something this beautiful without a second thought. I couldn’t let them do that.

“Fine!” I reached out, grabbed the stem and pulled hard.

It was sturdy but I snapped it off. I glared back at the store clerk but instead of the anger which I expected to match my own I saw horror splitting their face. A sick grin spread over it like a crack appearing on something that has been stretched too much. Then laughter began to spill out of their mouth that they seemed to be trying to stop. I stepped away, fear replacing anger.

The pit of fear grew deeper and wider when I realized that there were actual cracks in their skin. They spiderwebbed out from the lips opening wider and wider into darkness. I stumbled backwards this time tripping over and landing on several pots. I felt one of them crack but the others held firm. There I lay as I watched in terror at the flowers and vines that had begun to sprout from the chasms open in the shopkeep's skin. They now looked more plant than human. Every flower I realized was an exact copy of the one I still held clenched in my fist.

I thought that the flower must have something to do with the disfigurement of the clerk and I certainly did not want that to happen to me so I did what I thought was most logical. I threw it upon the ground. As soon as it landed, cracks spread out from each of its petals. They moved faster than I could comprehend unfurling and breaking as they went. Soil spilled from flower pots and vines were sliced as the black lines extended to the edges of the cafe and then burst out as if breaking some kind of barrier. People began to stop and stare at the peculiar things twisting past them. Then people began to scream. The tendrils growing up their legs as flowers sprouted from the blackness.

I tried to shout a warning but I was drowned out by the rising pandemonium. As I tried to warn others I found that I had not heeded my own advice. I then realized that my feet rested on several of the cracks. I waited to feel the pattern spread up my legs but it didn’t. I, very hesitantly, got to my feet and out of sheer terrified curiosity stepped on one of the cracks with purpose. Nothing happened.

The relief I felt was short-lived as the silence that had fallen registered in my mind. I looked out past the splintered overgrown fence and cried out in fear. I could just barely hear screaming far off in the city but no one anywhere near me could scream. None of them could do anything anymore.

They were more like husks than actual people. Their eyes were gone, replaced with black holes from which the night rider lilies sprouted from. Their bodies were ridden with cracks and more flowers and vines. As my eyes swept across the devastation the bodies of the dead began to fall away leaving eerie shapes of people made of coils of vines. Drifts of their dust began to pile up along the street.

I felt something wet roll down my cheek. One after another tears streamed down my face.

I had done this. I had wanted the cursed flower to be mine and maybe even survive and in the process I had killed everyone and I guessed everything. This apocalypse was my fault.

Another droplet fell. It did not come from my eyes but from the sky. Clouds had started to form bringing more drops of water down. The drizzle that had begun turned into a downpour. As I stared out at the strange crowd the human dust had already begun to wash away into the sewers and down the streets and alleyways.

I turned away from the horrible scene and looked down at the thing that had caused this but laying in the flower’s place… I wasn’t quite sure at first. It was white with flecks of brown. It had roots protruding from one side and a green nubbin on the other. It wasn’t particularly pretty in any way. I knelt carefully and picked it up. It felt sort of fleshy and smooth and fit neatly in my hand. As my fingers closed around the bulb I realized that it was just that. A flower bulb. I had a faint memory of seeing something like it piled in a greenhouse when I was young. I lifted it up to my nose and sniffed. It had a very earthy smell. At that moment I knew what I needed to do.

It was rather hard to find a pot that had not been broken. In fact I discovered that no such pot existed in the shop. Even upstairs. I ended up just making a pile of soil in the middle of the patio.

I dug a small ways down and placed the bulb in the mound. I then covered it with more soil. I worried that there was something special I was supposed to do. Like putting it in water or something. I hoped there wasn’t. I found a watering can that had been sitting out. It was full thanks to the rain which had stopped though it was still overcast. The metal sides of the can had not been punctured by the black lines. I walked it over to my pile and tipped some of its contents. I let the can thunk down on to the paving stones. I waited for something to happen. For everything to fix itself and for it to go back to normal. That didn’t happen. Nothing did.

I let out a long, disappointed breath.

“That was supposed to work!” I said angrily.

I picked up the can again and poured some more water on the mound. Nothing.

I threw the metal tool against the wall and stomped inside the store. I didn’t know what I was going to do but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stay out here.

I spent quite a bit of time just sitting against the counter with my head buried in my hands. I had been so sure that would work. That’s what you’re supposed to do with bulbs. A heavy weight of hopelessness settled over me. I was completely alone and had no idea what to do next.

I glanced out through the door and did a double take. I thought I had seen a green sprout coming up through the mass of brown. I leapt to my feet and ran outside. Sure enough my eyes hadn't deceived me. A sprout was coming out of the soil. As I watched it grew a couple inches more. I didn’t dare feel hopeful. Not yet. I didn’t want to jinx it.

That thought made me laugh. I quickly stopped. It rang strangely in the silent air.

Over the next 20 or so minutes, my telephone had stopped working so I could not be exactly sure, the bud extended up till it reached about chest height. And still it continued to grow toward the grey sky. Finally when it reached just below my eye level a bloom began to grow. I could not see the color at first and was afraid that it would just be another jet one with captured galaxies within.

When the color did start to show relief flooded me. I watched as it finished blooming. The light from its petals bled into the world around it, seeming to set everything aglow. As the light flooded from it all the other black flowers began to turn the same milky white as the original. It was not pure white. Gold streaks spiraled out from the center, seeming to produce a glowing sort of pollen that burrowed into the black cracks that had been created first. The bits of golden dust landed on the people shaped plants and started to… I don’t know what it did but slowly, inch by inch, cell by cell the people came back. The pollen grew brighter as the cracks disappeared and the people seemed to regenerate. It became so bright I couldn’t see anything until finally, finally the brightness faded and I found myself sitting in one of the patio chairs as I had when the whole affair had begun. The barista came out of the shop. Their face bore no cracks, no insane smile. Just a pleasant one.

“There’s that tea for ya.” Their voice no longer had the quality that had grated on my nerves before.

They set the steaming cup before me.

“Careful, it’s hot.” They flashed me the warmest, most welcoming smile and walked back into the shop.

I looked out onto the street where people strolled. They all looked less in a hurry. Many stopped and talked to each other. They seemed so normal but at the same time better. I don’t know if I can do it justice with words but everyone and everything just seemed newer, fresher, more vivid, more beautiful.

I picked up my cup, blew on the surface of the liquid and took a sip. It was the perfect temperature. I finished it quickly. I felt like I needed a nice, long walk just to make sure everything had returned to how it should be as well as to enjoy the wonderfully warm day.

As I stood up I noticed a tall thin plant that sprouted from the bottom of the wall in the corner of the patio. I jumped a little. Then started laughing. I continued to laugh as I walked out through the metal gate and onto the busy street.

It was a lily. Pale as the clouds in the sky with its inside tendrils a golden yellow.