She laid in bed breathing in the sweet scent. It was the smell of melancholy. Maybe it was melancholy itself she was inhaling. Her skin was paper-thin, nearly grey, stretched over the bones. Nobody dared to touch her. They thought a mere touch might tear the delicate, grey parchment her skin had become.
She inhaled slowly. She used to adore the scent of Jasmine. They kept the window open, so she could breathe it in. They had no hope.
Nobody could tell what’s wrong with her. The doctors ran tests. Her family took her to healers and witches, to exorcists and shamans. Nothing helped. She faded day by day. Food or water didn’t give her strength.
They say it all began when her fiancé passed. She scattered his ashes in the garden. It was a windy spring day. Maybe she accidentally inhaled the ashes? They pondered.
The Jasmine bush bloomed all through the summer, until the first frosts. A wonder of nature. Her family hoped it’s a sign she will live. Only she knew it would be the cause of her death. She wasn’t inhaling the Jasmine scent; it was inhaling her. She had no strength to fight. The white flowers sucked the life out of her with every breath she exhaled.
Oh, she loves the Jasmine scent, let’s leave the window open a bit longer! They said once again.
Her eyes widened. She took one last sweet breath, exhaled, and the Jasmine sucked it up hungrily. The next morning the white flowers had gone ash grey.
It’s because of the cold, the family pondered. They scattered her ashes under her beloved Jasmine bush growing ever so huge by her window. The Jasmine bush rustled in the wind happily, for it knew, when someone new will move into that room, they won’t be unable to resist the scent of melancholy. They’ll infuse the Jasmine with their sweet breaths and the ash grey Jasmine shall be fed.
This is awesome - as always! Every time I see a new post from you, I know I'm in for something special!
Loved this, well written with a fantastic premise. I’m adding Jasmine to the list of carnivorous plants