The daffodil grew up through the dirt as the sun heated the earth around it. She slowly poked her head out, her petals stretching out and directing themselves to the heat up above. She was with her fellow flowers, some daffodils, some tulips, some orchards. It was lovely. It was peaceful.

This was their life, and within weeks they would wither and die.

But to experience the world above for only mere weeks, the daffodil and her friends tried to embrace every moment of it.

There was a gardener that came by a few days later, and with the chug of a long string he started up his lawnmower.

The flowers quaked as they saw the huge revving killer begin to be pushed onto the lawn, and heading directly their way.

She watched as her friends got torn to shreds and just before the mower reached her the engine combusted and smoke flew out of the top of it and from its exhaust.

She was quaking as she knew her time was going to come very shortly, but a young man appeared suddenly insight, and reached his hand down, plucking her out.

She couldn't breathe, so erratic and chaotic everything had become. She needed the dirt, the ground to observe her nutrients. She would die within hours.

She fell unconscious, her head of petals dropping in defeat... but life wasn't over exactly yet.

She could feel her thirst being re-awoken as she saw water was surrounding her stem and she quickly drank up its nutrients.

She looked around in her still position and could see an elderly woman in a bed away.

The woman was watching her, a soft smile on her weak lips and she called the young man over to her, asking, "Where did you get such a beautiful flower?"

"I picked it before the gardener got it."

"Beautiful..." She whispered and smiled even warmer at the daffodil.

The daffodil stayed in the vase by the glass window and she drank the water, coming to peace with her life now.

She would watch the old lady, and after the third night, the two of them both grew weak.

The flower knew she only had moments left before she would die... the old lady knew instinctively as well.

Just hold on, the flower thought towards the old lady, please don't go just yet...

The woman closed her eyes... and suddenly she became frozen.

The daffodil closed up her petals and fell into the deep sleep, away from all the pain and hurt.

As her dead petals began to fall, one landed on a shining wrinkled hand – a hand no one could see.

The old lady smiled and clasped her hand around it tight, her own body left as she began to head to the light.

The petal began to shine as well... the daffodil feeling a different type of life come to her.

She opened her eyes and saw she was no longer a flower... but a young girl with golden hair.

And she was holding the hand of the old woman.

The two walked hand in hand into the light.

And their story had just begun...

...it truly had.