by Angela A
I lay, waiting.
Beside me, my sisters take in the sun. They sigh luxuriously, glad to be swimming in fresh air once again, glad to be away from where we have been hidden for so long. They do not care if we are found, but I know. Someone is coming for us.
The straw prickles at our backs, but we do not worry for the sake of our beauty. All these years of life have not taken their toll on us; how could simple grass do any damage?
The feeling grows hotter, and I smile to myself. Yes, someone is coming, and they will soon be here.
Within moments, a traveler appears on the road. He looks weary, poor, down on his luck. I can smell his desperation; it will work perfectly to our advantage. As he approaches, my sisters and I reveal ourselves. We are stunning in our radiance, deceptively pure. He can do nothing but stare. Yes, this one will be easily manipulated. This one will do quite well.
The traveler takes us reluctantly, as though he can feel the evil that seeps from our cores. The temptation is simply too great for him to resist. We are slipped quickly into the pocket of his cloak. Even there, we gleam in triumph. Red as malice, green as spite, white as deceit. We glow with the fire of our compromised souls.