The bouquet of fresh flowers lying in my trashcan looked so pretty, a many-hued mélange.
The red rose from the ice cream vendor, daffodil from the police officer, pink daisy from the little kid who lived down the street. Males have always loved me with such fervor. I cannot even recall most of them. In all candor, I would rather not. My beauty has always been a curse. Immortality even more so.
Centuries ago, my face launched a thousand ships and claimed even more lives. I am glad that nowadays men offer only flowers. I cannot claim more lives.
Word Count: 99
Read more about Helen of Troy
Image credit: https://www.absolutearts.com/painting_oil/artemis__artists_association-bouquet_with_yellow_lilies-1321809197.html
Prompts:
Carrot Ranch June 14 Flash Fiction Challenge
Word of the Day Challenge – Fervor
Would love to hear your thoughts on this one! 🙂
Ooh, eerie!
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Thanks! 😊
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Brilliant
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Thank You!! ☺️
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ooh, this is so great. everything about the way you write is so unique, it is a true pleasure to read.
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Thanks so much, Shreya ! 😊😊
I am so glad you feel so😁
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Creative…
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Thanks so much! 🙂
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Very welcome!
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Fascinating take. 😉
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Thanks a lot! 😀
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Wow, I came here thinking it was going to be a short piece about the beauty of flowers. What a dark twist to this story. I like it! 😮
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Thanks so much! 😀
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Brilliant take.
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Thank You! 😀
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Helen grows weary…cleverly conceived and penned!
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Thanks so much, Liz! 😀
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