Flash Fiction 3rd Place: Three Lilies by Sally Curtis
Annetta selects the lilies herself; three young stems, their vulvic petals protecting the anther that will stain her tablecloth a bloody red. She knows it will happen, but not when.
The florist has learned that the flowers require no special wrapping: no gauzy cellophane or thick, colourful gift wrap, no silky bows or ribbons teased into ringlets, no card from the display case announcing each rite of passage. A single sheet of brown paper swathes them, heads peeking out, leaves pressed close against the stalks in a protective embrace.
At home, Annetta follows her routine. She picks off the tape, unfolds the paper and smooths it out. Taking each new stem in turn, she snips the end and lays them side by side on the kitchen counter like three sleeping sisters.
From the vase she removes last month’s wilted beauties; their petals drop like silent tears. She gathers them up and, with the stalks and leaves, places them on the paper, folding it around the dead blooms as if wrapping them in a burial shroud.
As the cloudy water drains away, Annetta scrapes at the residue of sodden greenery that clings to the inside of the vase before filling it with clean water, swilling away any reminder. She refills the vase and empties the sachet of flower food into it, knowing nothing manufactured can sustain life: they will die when they are ready – when she isn’t looking.
Standing the first stem in the vase, the pain still kicks: a fuzzy darkness on the screen, the furrowed brow of the nurse, nothing left to see. She places the second just as carefully: this time a photograph, proof she was real, but the silence engulfed what should have been the pulsing beat of new life. The third one keeps the secret: nobody need know she too slipped away.
Sliding her open fingers beneath the corolla, Annetta cradles the delicate petals like a newborn. She breathes in their muskiness then releases them, resting her hands on her rounded belly. She knows this time life is strong – yet she mouths a silent appeal to Isis, Juno, Candelifera, whatever deity will listen, that she will not be placing a fourth lily in the vase.
