I’ve brought you flowers, Lily, like I promised; just like yesterday, and the day before, just like every day since you came here. They’re in that purple vase on the shelf by your bed, do you see? I’ve changed the water. It will keep them alive just a little longer, keep them blooming; they’re so beautiful, all of your favorite colors, do you see? Can you smell them, Lily? Something to cover that awful antiseptic smell, something to bring some color to the cold white walls. It’s funny. They’re so bright, so colorful, so soft, you forget they’re already dead—you forget the water’s just keeping them barely alive, holding them here just a little longer so you can see them. You forget that somebody went out and killed them for us.
You look so pretty, Lily, delicate and pale, not a blemish; so strange that your bruises should heal, your cuts vanish, your belly steadily swell even as the rest of you grows so thin—and still they say you won’t get better. The doctors tell me that all of these machines you’re hooked up to are the only thing keeping you alive; they tell me that your brain stopped working the night you came here, and that you’re only breathing because of the tube in your throat. They told me that if they can keep your heart beating for just a few more weeks, then the baby can be born, can be pulled out of you like plucking the ripe fruit from a tree and leaving the withered remains of the blossom behind on the branch to drop to the earth and disintegrate. They say you won’t wake up, you know, that you’re already dead. I don’t understand. You look alive to me, Lily, alive and gently blooming, so white, so pure, like the roses at our wedding.
I’m bending to kiss your forehead. I feel like Pygmalion, leaning over his alabaster bride, stony-pale flesh so supple to the touch; not alive, but I can feel your warmth, can see your soft breath rising and falling under your breasts, straining against your stomach. The machine makes a soft whirring noise with every breath it gives you; the other machines are beeping, or clicking, or making other noises like a whole flock of invisible birds was living in your room, singing to each other in their own language. There are numbers and lines and dots on the screens of some of the machines, but I don’t know what they mean. I just know that you’re hooked up to them, the way the baby is hooked up to you; they’re keeping you alive with their own mechanized umbilical cords, here cozy in the fluorescent-lighted hospital’s womb. I touch your belly with my hand, feel the soft movements of the baby inside; she’s kicking, Lily, can you feel her?
I remember when you told me she wasn’t mine. I asked you whose it was, and that’s when the tears came; they flooded out of you, the same as your words, when you told me all in one gasping breath that you’d been sleeping with one of the men you worked with, the one who always had such nice company picnics in his backyard, who I’d talked to a dozen times without realizing the truth, who you’d been with for nearly a year, and you were scared, so scared that I’d be angry with you. But I wasn’t angry, Lily, do you remember? I held you close, and told you not to be so scared; I promised I would never, ever hurt you, and I wiped the tears from your beautiful cheeks and I told you I would love the baby like it was mine. You remember that, don’t you Lily?
You said you’d never see him again. You promised me that you’d never go back; I told you we could make it work, and you promised me that we’d try. And we were trying, weren’t we Lily? Even when you started working late into the night, when you wouldn’t come home for hours, when you didn’t tell me where you were all those times—we were still trying to make it work. I was never angry with you, Lily. When you came home smelling like alcohol and another man’s cologne I knew you’d been lying to me, but still I was never angry with you; I never blamed you, Lily, not even when I lay awake next to you in bed wondering why you were falling out of love with me, wondering if he was better than me, wondering why I didn’t satisfy you.
He hasn’t visited you here, you know. Every day, I’ve brought you flowers; I’ve sat here talking to you, Lily, holding your hand like I am now, and I’ve told you that everything would be all right. He hasn’t come to see you. He hasn’t come to feel his baby growing inside of you. He walked away from the accident with a few bruises, and left you to die here; he didn’t love you, Lily, not like I do. I love you, Lily—I love you even now, when you’re so quiet, so still, when everyone tells me that you’re dead, that you’re not even inside of yourself anymore. I love you the same as I loved you when we were in college, all bashful smiles and awkward glances, and the way I loved you at our wedding, when you were a white blossom of silk and lace. I love you enough to keep you alive, the way I love the baby inside of you who I’ve never seen and who isn’t mine. He tried to take you away from me, but he couldn’t do it. I love you too much to let you go.
He tried to take you away from me, Lily.
That night, the night the hospital called me, I knew where you had been; I knew because I called all of the friends you said you were going out with, and none of them had seen you, and I knew because you left your computer on, and I read the emails you sent him—I read all of them, Lily, even the dirty ones—and I knew you wanted to leave me. You wanted to leave one night and never come back, didn’t you Lily? And that’s what you did; you left me one night, and you never saw me again, even though I came to see you every day.
What were you doing when his car swerved into the wrong lane, Lily?
When they take the baby out of you, they’ll want to take away the machines. They don’t know that she isn’t mine, you know; nobody knows but me, and you, and him; nobody else ever has to know. But I’m scared, Lily. I’m scared that since he can’t have you anymore that he’ll take away your baby, the last part of you that’s left. It would be like losing you again, and I’ve lost you too many times.
I might not be here tomorrow, Lily. I might not bring you anymore flowers.
I know where he lives, now. I remember, from all those backyard barbecues. I know his phone number, from your cell phone bill, and I know when he’ll be home, because it’s all the same hours you were gone with him. Tomorrow, I’m going to go to his house. I’m going to cut the fresh red roses from the hedge in his yard, and I’m going to tie them together with a pretty black ribbon for you, to show you when I come back, so you’ll know I did it.
I don’t want to hurt anyone, Lily, but I can’t let him take you away from me again. If the doctors are right, and you’re never going to wake up, then this baby is the only part of you left, and I promised you I’d take care of her, didn’t I? I said I’d treat her just like my own daughter, didn’t I?
No one will have to know how he died. I’ll be careful, Lily, I promise.
It can be our little secret.
You won’t tell anyone, will you Lily?
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
ewww this is chilling! This guy’s off his rocker, understandably so, but still way off his trolley. Ok. The thing that strikes me most about this piece is that it’s the situation and not the way you present it that really tugs at the heart strings or reviles me the most.
There are a plenty of occasions where I think you need to be just lean a little more delicately than you do. In other places the language is a little clumsy and detracts from the piece in my opinion. For instance;
- The parallel between the flowers and Lily. They way in which you parallel the machines and the water is both clever and obvious; I don’t think you need to spell it out quite the way you do. The similarity is compounded by the fact that the two descriptions run back to back. I’d just make it a little more elusive. I think your reader will find it more rewarding if they think they’ve worked it out themselves.
- “machine makes a soft whirring noise with every breath it gives you” – His language changes here. It’s almost as if you’re trying to crowbar descriptions into a dialogue orientated piece. I’d leave these out. Stick to what your story is about – the people.
- “but I don’t know what they mean. I just know that you’re hooked up to them, the way the baby is hooked up to you” again. Don’t spell it out. Just put them next door to each other, and let your reader do the rest – we are reasonably intelligent you know ;)
- “and another man’s cologne” I don’t thin you need “another man’s” it’s obvious what’s going on here.
- “the way I love the baby inside of you who I’ve never seen and who isn’t mine” it isn’t (at this point) obvious why your character would stick around in this situation. Most guys would want nothing to do with this kid. Perhaps ramp up the feeling that this guy isn’t a full shilling before putting this bit in. OR put this bit in at the same time. “baby, the last part of you that’s left.” now we sympathise with him. If you put this bit in here we go awwww – right before you hit us with the awful truth that your guy is a bit fruit cakey. An emotional coaster that will make your reader wonder what the heck they were thinking.
- “I read all of them, Lily, even the dirty ones” – I’d find a way to create some sort of a pause after this bit. It would add a dramatic effect because it’s chilling. He knows. He knows… everything!
- “they’ll want to take away the machines” I’d get rid of want. It indicates that he will do her in too when the child is born. It’s him telling her that she’s going to die, and that there’s nothing she can do about it. It’s indirect but the malice of that veiled threat is particularly evocative.
- I think you’re right about the ending. I’d lose the “It can be our little secret.” as it’s a bit clichéd. Also I’d change “You won’t tell anyone, will you Lily? ” to “If you still love me, you won’t tell anyone. You won’t will you Lily?”
- This way your protagonist gets one over on his victim right at the end. The one thing she could deny him through silence has now been removed. He has won completely, and that’s horrific.
The only advice I have is to look at your run-on sentences. I know it’s kind of part of the conversational tone you take but there are a few that would work better cut down.
Great piece overall! Really horrible character; so utterly deluded. Good work!
Your “Flowers for Lily” has a great opening paragraph. You keep us in suspense as to what is really occurring. When we find out that Lily is in a life-threatening situation, we feel sympathy. Then you reach the turning point when you disclose the devious side of Lily. If you were looking for a surprise ending, you have it. If there is more to the story, I would be interested to read it. I can only add that your grammar and sentence structures could use some going-over. Latly, I would not use as many contractions: we’d, they’ve, etc.
this was an interesting story, one that definitely caught my attention. i like the style, like an internal monolouge. it seems a bit hurried and a bit short though. kind of like it is too quick and leaves the reader wanting more. perhaps you could slow it down, take it to a slightly slower pace to extend the story some.
“so white, so pure, like the roses at our wedding.” When I got to this one phrase in your sentences, my tears surfaced! You see, I didn’t know who the man was that visited Lilly. He could have been a relative, a brother, a friend.. but it takes on a signifance that he was her husband; boyfriends come and go, as so eloquently pointed out by the SOB that got her in this situation; but husbands- ahhh, they already have invested much into the relationship. You do write so well, and even if the sentences sometimes run a little long, I understand what you are saying; all the intricate weaving of feelings and background situations are perfectly set up. You asked if the ending needs work, but I think it tells us just enough. That somehow he is going to set things right and manage to figure out a way not to get caught, for the protection of the baby, that is a part of Lilly. I can see him doing this. I can see him coming back with the roses and taking the baby far away, someplace safe like Mexico or another foreign country , where they can have a new life. So I liked the ending because it allows us to figure it out in our own minds. As far as grammar or spelling, I couldn’t really find anything that struck me as I read along. I really do like your ideas and the way your words flow and I sure hope you get enough feedback to where you get noticed and published. I think you are incredible!
I really liked this I think you could change the second to the last paragraph a little by having the husband say “I am going to pay him a visit lily when i do I will cut the fresh red roses from the hedge in his yard” also you could change it up and go with the If I cant have the baby then no one will approach but those are just some suggestions. I really liked this Thanks :)
The second paragragraph the second to last line is written so poetically except for the word “disintegrate” It just hit me as so wrong compared to the beginning of the sentance. Sorry it’s nit picky. That is the only thing I had a problem with.
I can feel his desperation grow and the story move faster when he says Lily’s name. Using the name repeatedly started to give me the creeps, but it makes for a great visual seeing him come unglued.
The ending I felt you could stop at “I know where he lives, now.” Then pick it back up at “No one will have to know. It can be our little secret.
You won’t tell anyone, will you Lily?”
you do not have to go into all the details of what you are going to do. It takes away the suspense you have built up and it fits the creepiness of the character.
This was a good read.
Well I could tell from the first paragraph that there was something wrong, so good job leading in and setting a general tone of uneasiness for the reader. You also had really good development of explaining their relationship first by introducing the idea of marriage then furthering on to the hurt he must have felt.
I think the ending is okay, but you need to do more to help us understand WHY he’s planning on killing the guy (I got that right, didn’t I?). I mean yes, it has to do with him wanting to keep the baby, but is the man crazy? Has he always wanted to do this and just now suddenly has a bigger reason or need? I would suggest going further into that, it just seems sort of sudden when you bring up that end idea, because really you’ve sort of created the speaker to be a gentle and understand guy, perhaps too nice for his own good… maybe just put in a couple hints along the way so that it doesn’t come as such a shock this idea, and we can better relate to his motives. If you’re really looking for things to make it much better, you could go more into the descriptive writing during his memories, maybe use the five senses to describe company picnics. Used that really well, like the smell of the mix of alcohol and cologne you describe, and the sounds of the machines, as well as sight. I’d just keep doing that because it’s working. Overall nice job in creating a set mood that was really capturing.
I liked it. I’m not a short story writer but I believe it was written more like a letter, with him speaking directly as if the audience is her. But I enjoyed the read, it kept me interested and didn’t bore me. i also liked the way it was only revealed where they were by what he was saying, but I don’t think the laws of witing allow you to not describe the location. Good work though.
I noticed in your comments, you said the ending needed some help, but I thought it was a pretty good story. I honestly think this story could very well continue. This reminded me a lot of the movie, not saying it accusingly but just the same, “The hand that rocks the cradle.” I could see a perfect murder that this man just couldn’t carry out, the baby comes to term and the two “fathers” go thru the court fights. Maybe the mourning lover goes insane and we see the evolution of a killer. I think this story really has a lot of potential and you could go in so many directions with it. Good story, keep writing..or don’t. Either way, I enjoyed it.
“Something to cover … white walls.” This is a tad over-described; I understand it’s to show your reader it’s a hospital, but perhaps there’s a more subtle way to do it. What if you made it conversational, It covers the antiseptic, don’t you think? It’s nice to have some color in here. Know what I mean? A thot.
“They told me that … disintegrate.” There are entirely too many thoughts in this sentence.
They told me that if they can keep your heart beating for just a few more weeks, then the baby can be born. She can be pulled out of you like plucking the ripe fruit from a tree, leaving the withered remains of the blossom behind on the branch where, soon enough it will drop to the earth and disintegrate. —maybe. There are a lot of places where I think (I thing; me) this would be smoother if you chopped sentences a lil. (machines par. three, friends/em-ails par. seven, etc. ) All the words fit, it just needs a punctuation adjustment.
The ending is a little awkward, which you alluded to. Here’s what I think would be neat. What if the narrarrator had already killed the boyfriend? And the flowers he brought were the one’s from the garden? I was careful, I did this for you, because he didn’t care, etc.? Whatcha think? Just an idea.
I like this, where you’ve gone with it. Polish it, and I think you’re there. Best of luck.
Love, love.
Showing 1 - 10 of 11
Next →
Ratings & Rankings
Review item
Add to faves
