Yellow Daffodils

     The traveler was searching for something. The wooden basket that hung from his bike was worn and empty and it yearned for something to hold. The wheels of the bike slowly glided across the golden sand that stretched endlessly from either end of the horizon. Although each grain of sand occupied each other with countless company, the traveler was alone in this barren land. Nothing else could be seen except for the infinite golden sand and the infinite blue sky. And even though there was no sun, it remained hot and bright.

     However, although the traveler was lonely, one thought accompanied him in his never-ending journey. 

Daffodils.

Yellow daffodils.

Daffodils far fairer and far brighter than the golden hue of the grainy desert sand.

     The reason for solely desiring this sweet honey-colored flower, he did not know. Nor did he know why he was in this barren desert-land. Whenever he were to try to think of his past, only shadowy memories greeted his mind. But in this black darkness, a single golden daffodil stands. Perhaps it was something he yearned to have in his past life, before he appeared in this mysterious desert. Or perhaps it held the key to unlock all of his past memories or a ghost of a hint to uncover a small fraction of a memory.

     The traveler's thoughts subsided when he noticed a small puff of smoke at the end of the horizon. Was it a cloud? he thought. It was curiously strange, indeed. The limitless sky had always been cloudless since the day he was trapped here in this endless desert. Does this peculiar cloud conceal any hidden answers?

     The hopeful traveler decided to chase after the white cloud, since it was the only thing other than he that seemed to be singular and alone. The cloud seemed to increase and swell in size every time he inched closer, but his eyes were so intently focused and fixated on the soft white, he did not notice the ground change from grainy sand to grassy dirt. 

"Alas! I have reached it!" the traveler exclaimed in breathless joy.

He skidded into a halt at the sound of his own voice. 

He was finally able to speak, unlike the infinite time he had spent in the barren desert of silence.

His mind raced in dizzying spin out of shock and confusion as he tried to comprehend these strange phenomenons that are occuring one after the other.

     He looked up at the lone cloud once more and his heart almost leaped out of his chest as he saw more white fluffs other than the one he was previously chasing. But even more enchanting was what the traveler saw after he lowered his gaze to the ground. 

He fell down to his knees at the breathtaking sight surrounding him.

     A vast field of flowers spread out before the traveler. It stretched endlessly for miles just like the sandy desert, but the flowery meadow was far more beautiful. The flowers look up to the clouds drifting slowly across the light blue sky like countless stars admiring their reflection through the soft ripples in glassy water.

     A sudden wave of realization halted his awestruck dream to a harsh and cold reality. The traveler truly wished he could remain here, but an uneasy dark feeling in his chest warned him that he must return to the desertland. Once the blue sky gives its hours to night, the traveler would be back to the land of sand, so he settled in his mind that he must get as many flowers as his basket would allow him to carry before the sky darkens.

     The traveler started to carefully pluck each bud from its stem and admired each one lovingly before gently placing the flower into the woven basket. Although the flowers could not feel or speak, he thought that each daffodil gave him a sign of life, acceptance, care, and warmth. He continued to remove flowers from their stems until the sky started to darken. The traveler, with his neverchanging fixed gaze on his beloved flowers, was not aware of the blackening sky. Nor did he notice when sleep casted a shadow over his eyes to entice him into a dreamless slumber.

                                 --

     The sky's resuming brightness released the traveler from sleep's hold and grasp, and when he awoke with hints of sleep in his eyes, he realized he was still in the meadow of yellow daffodils and not in the land of coarse sand.

He did not return, so does that mean he could remain here?

Did this flowery meadow replace the sandy desert?

At these thoughts, he felt a warm swelling in his chest. Is this what happiness felt like?

However, his merriment and delight vanished all too quickly at the sound of a voice. 

"Where have all the flowers gone?"

The traveler remained silent as his gaze looked downwards at his hands in remorse and guilt.

"Who took all the yellow daffodils?" another voice asked.

"It was I who took them," the traveler answered ashamedly as he unravelled his fingers to reveal the withered yellow flowers. 

"Why would someone take them?" the voices wondered.

"No one ever came to visit me," the traveler cried as he hid his tears with his hands to weep in anguish and agony. 

"All I wanted.. were flowers."

The once bright and yellow, but now shriveled and colorless daffodils fell down towards the ground.

Each flower turned into grainy desert sand before it touched the ground to disappear completely.

No one saw the fallen flowers.

And no one heard the voice of the traveler.

Just as the daffodils have gone,

so did he.