Use the following words in a story: nursery, reward, scallop


Trees and bushes and a million types of flowers. Dahlias, roses, tulips, all different varieties, so much to choose from. What did she want? Front yard, beside the driveway, her new garden, she said unique and beautiful, not cliche which eliminates roses. Tulips it is, tulips and a sunflower. That’s unique, like back in kindergarden, planting sunflowers in the school garden, that’ll be fun, that’s definitely unique.

He pays the cashier, takes his flowers, leaves the nursery, and heads home. A short drive, short enough to walk, but not when you have flowers to bring home with you.

He arrives, and what is this? On the sidewalk, in front of his driveway, it’s a little girl. It’s the neighbor’s girl, no more than seven. And she’s crying. What’s she doing here, all alone, and why’s she crying?

He parks his car on the street, then goes to her. “What’s wrong little one?” He asks, trying to be comforting.

“Mom and dad are fighting,” she says as she looks up from the ground, her face covered in tears.

That’s not good. Poor girl, he knows her parents, living next door. Good people but going through tough times, they love each other but they’re constantly fighting.

“You don’t like that, do you?” he asks, knowing it’s dumb but what do you say to a seven-year-old who’s crying?

“No,” she says, shaking her head.

“Here, I have just the thing,” and he reaches into his car, pull out the sunflower. “Take this. It’ll help solve things.”

The girl lights up; soft and gentle, she takes the flower in her hands. “Is it a magical flower?” she asks. What a strange question, but maybe not when you are seven.

“All sunflowers are magical. They stand tall and face the sun, capture its rays and happiness and share it with anyone who comes near it. See?” he say as he smells the flower and let out a big smile.

The girl does the same, lets out an even bigger smile.

“Now why don’t you go home, share it with your parents?”

She nods. She will. She’s much happier now. She gets up and heads home, careful to protect her flower as she goes. He watches her all the way, until she’s safe at home. Then he unloads his tulips and brings them inside. His wife loves them, they’re the perfect choice. They’ll plant them tomorrow and it’ll be a wonderful day, spending time together, gardening in the sun.

Tomorrow, for it’s too late now; it’s time for dinner and she made scallions, his favorite. As they eat he tells her his story, about the crying girl outside their home. His wife is moved, almost crying, she happy and caring and the scallions are delicious, a great end to a positive day, a great reward for good deeds done.

His wife disagrees: the scallions aren’t his reward; his reward will come later, in bed, tonight.


About Gabriel Bruskoff
I make movies! See for more information.

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