Seeds by Christine Blackwicks
from Dystopia: a PUNK NOIR Magazine series
I encountered the girl at a tent encampment.
Her parents deported before The Collapse kicked humanity back six centuries. Like me, she exchanged clearing rubble from the charcoal wasteland for a daily food stipend.
I offered her protection at night for her morning hot water allotment. Ariel never let go of her Hello Kitty backpack. Survivors embodied secrets.
One night, I caught her flipping through the pages of a scrapbook. She slammed it shut, but softened when she saw it was me.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a collection of pressed flowers I made with my abuela before…” Ariel shrugged her shoulders.
“Can I see?”
Reluctantly, the girl opened to a heavy cream page filled with many colored flecks.
“This looks like paper.”
“It’s a silly memento.” She laughed relieved, closing the book and casually stuffing it in her bag. With a wave she left for the barracks.
Jade green leaves mixed with poppy pinks and daffodil yellows. A tear dripped off my chin, a gut punch reminder of colors now elusive as dreams. I had an abuela once, and we too made seed paper.
With those stolen pages I germinated a new life leaving Ariel in the soil of my rebirth.
This story appears as part of Dystopia, a PUNK NOIR Magazine series.
Bio
Christine Blackwicks received her master’s in creative writing from Harvard University. She’s a huge fan of reading, candy, and daydreaming. Her nonfiction can be found under the name Christy Wicks. Follow her on Facebook @christineblackwicks.
PUNK NOIR, the online literary and arts magazine that looks at the world at its most askew, casting a bloodshot eye over the written word, film, music, television and more.
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