🥈The Magical Sentient Flower

🥈Super Runner-Up / Last Week's Leftovers - Entries You Didn't Submit Challenge hosted @Billly_Ruffian

It blooms only where grief pools. A single stalk rising from soil salted by sorrow, petals pale as mourning cloth.

Travelers call it mercy; fools call it miracle. They kneel. They whisper wishes into its velvet throat. They never rise again.

The flower does not chew — it welcomes. Tendrils stroke a cheek, a throat, a soul loosening from its bones like steam from cooling earth. It feeds slow, savoring each memory surrendered, each regret swallowed, each fear dissolved into nectar.

By dawn nothing remains but petals trembling, sated, and the faintest hum — not mourning, but contentment.

Beauty is a lure. Hunger is the truth.