Clipping branches and spongy dirt chambers stuck to boots. Sweaty palms and bare feet bobbing up and down. Three boys walk hurriedly up to the lime-stone castle carrying the youngest of them. Black spots cover their faces, spots where the sun doesn't shine, shading from the overhead leaves and high-reaching titan flowers. The flowers fight for the attention of the sun, taking it from the stragglers below. But they're beautiful and worth the glory. Right? As the boys walk closer and closer to the steps of the castle, the black spots vanish as a clearing unfolds. The sun in its fullness of gold casts warmth upon their faces. Each young boy taking big drinks as if thirsty for the invisible rays. The one being carried sprawls out his hurting body. His skin lights up and the cells quickly fold and unfold, die and live, in order for the bottom-layered cells to also feel the glory of the sun. The peaks and prairies of the endless flatness that the rays create, the skin taking it all in, a wall of glory pressing. He's let go, falling to the ground.
Red sparkles from his head. A smell of stench from the titan flowers just barely in view, the smell they all despised, like death. The oldest of the boys runs to find the only man he could think of that could make it all okay. The fall was great, yes, but the tree limb seemed like it could hold. And why the youngest of them all? He was light and limber. When they crossed the stream, he could cross the stones without touching the water, practically dancing on the ripples. Was he to blame for this? A mark of shame spread across his brow. Did he corner his brother into such an action? To climb higher than the titan flowers? To be completely covered in rays? No shade. All four corners of light could of been on his little brother. He was beautiful and worth the glory.
No father. No grandfather. No doctor. The only person the oldest brother knew to turn to was the prince. The last chance. Perhaps this man whose castle was almost as high as the titan flowers could make the redness go away. Yelling with panic and hate, the servants quickened their steps and lead the boy to the chamber of the prince. The towering doors sprung open. Inside lay a meaty man, embellished with moss-coloured drapings and a velvet robe, safe inside his corm. "Come hither, prince, my brother lie dying". The prince only stood from his settee and placed one hand out, uncovering a large single petal in his hand. The boy took it and rushed back to his brother, the stench growing in strength. As the stones broke apart the dirt clots on his boots, he looked down at the shining red petal. It seemed worthy of something, beautiful and simple and once alive.
He found his brother, pools of pollen surrounding his head wound. He placed the petal against the crimson clot. It lay there forming an inflorescence of blooming red. The sun giving off its gold again, the brothers lift the youngest high above themselves, a last stretch in search of the four corners of light. The bottom-most cell reaching the kingdom of the titan flowers.