The Painting with the Bad Critique
In a large and colorful field, there was once a magical flower.
The field had many flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors. There were thousands, and they were all beautiful and wonderful in their own ways.
From afar the many flowers were so lovely that it was hard to choose any that stood out from the others. One would never know that such a special flower was there. In fact if someone happened to notice this poor flower among all the others, it would probably look like one of the least special flowers in the field.
During the short time of this flower's life a couple people dancing in the field had carelessly stepped on it. Although the flower had managed to survive and recover itself, its petals were crumpled and looked no good compared to the many healthy flowers growing all around it.
However these crumpled petals were the very reason the flower was magical. Looking very closely and in just the right lighting, the petals sparkled like they had been dusted with fine diamonds.
One sunny day a child was picking flowers in the field, when he noticed a small light nearby. The light shined only for a moment, but he had already guessed where the flower was.
At first he thought the light had reflected from some metal or lost treasure, and he looked closely around the flower for something of value. Again some light reflected into his eye, and now he realized that it came from the shimmering surfaces of the crumpled petals.
He had already picked many flowers which were thrown into a basket over his arm, but seeing how sad and worn this flower was he felt too sorry for it to pick it. Instead he carefully plucked the largest petal from the stem, gently slipped it into his pocket, and ran off to look for more flowers to pick.
The flower felt quite sad for the loss of her petal and began to weep.
Many children were playing in the field and one nearby happened to hear the tiny cries and searched for the sound curiously. When he found it he wondered at the way tears were dripping from the sad little flower. He didn't like that something as sweet and pretty as a flower was weeping, so he gently reached out a finger and tickled it.
The flower began to giggle, and it felt much better. The boy had not noticed the sparkling of the petals, so the flower leaned into the light to show him. This way it could repay his kindness by sharing a secret.
When the boy saw how the petals sparkled, he decided to take a small one for himself. He found the smallest petal, plucked it neatly, and ran off to play with his friends some more.
Where he had put it and if he still had it, the flower did not know.
A little while later another child suddenly lied down with a "huff" by the flower. He had left the group of children to take a nap alone. His head lay right next to the flower, crushing another one, and his hair tickled its nose.
The flower sneezed.
The boy was startled by this, and looked at the flower with amazement. Seeing it was missing petals, he quickly plucked one as well to examine it. He saw how the light reflected off the surface. It seemed to the flower that he could be appreciating it, but just then, as quickly as the child had come, he discarded the petal and ran away.
As the evening came, more children had wandered into the field in a small group. The flower wondered why children would be out so late. They seemed to be hiding. A child crouched down in the grass nearby, looking out for the others.
Mysteriously, this child also noticed the flower, perhaps in the strange way that people sense they are being watched. When he looked at it, there was no wonder or curiosity in him like the children from before. He seemed to ponder the flower for a moment, then with a laugh he ripped off all the remaining petals from the flower's stem. He ran back to a friend and handed him a handful of the petals, which did not shine in the darkness and were quickly thrown away and lost.
The flower cried all night over the loss of its magical shimmering petals. At this time there was no one to hear it but the moon and the stars, so it cried even louder than before.
In the early morning a sad little boy ran out into the field to cry alone, for he was lost. In between his own sobs he managed to hear that someone else in the field was also crying, and he stopped his own tears to look for them.
To his surprise he found what remained of the flower with tears running down its stem.
"What's wrong?" he asked with concern.
The flower was touched that he would listen to it and told him everything.
"So you see," it explained, "My petals were what made me beautiful and magical, and now I am nothing."
The boy, forgetting his own troubles for a time, comforted the flower. "It's true that you don't have any petals, but you are still magical."
"How so?" asked the flower.
The boy thought for a moment. "Well, for one, you are the only flower I have ever met that could talk and cry like you do."
The flower considered this, but could not feel better about the loss of its wonderful petals. It thought for a time, then solemnly concluded to the boy, "I am not anymore magical than you are. Please, I wish to be alone."
"Sorry about your petals," said the boy, "and sorry I could not make you feel better."
The flower said nothing.
The boy got up and walked off to find his way.
The flower sat alone in silence for a time, without crying or laughing, not even sneezing. Without petals it just looked like a blade of grass.
Time passed this way for what seemed like a long time in the short life of the flower, until one day a peculiar man came alone, studying the plants and flowers of the field.
He looked around with a magnifying glass, and spoke inquisitively to each living thing, "How do you do?"
The flower thought this was strange, because even children rarely spoke to plants this way. It wondered why the others did not speak up and answer him, but he just kept asking away. "Hey, how's it going?"
"Hi, what's your name?"
"How are you?"
Finally the flower could not stand just watching him. It cleared its throat and spoke up, "I'm fine, thank you."
The man looked around in surprise and settled his eyes on the flower. "You are?" he asked in astonishment.
"Yes, quite fine," the flower replied in a quick and almost unfriendly way.
After staring at it for a moment the man burst into laughter. "Is that so? Then how is it you are doing so fine?" He could not hold back his laughter as he spoke with the flower. "What kind of plant are you? A grass? A weed?"
The flower was a little offended. "Of course not, I am a flower! A magical flower, I might add!"
"How is it that you are magical then?" the man asked with a snort. He tried to compose himself, but every time he looked at that sorry excuse for a plant he could not help but laugh.
"My petals! They shimmer and glitter like gold and diamonds in the light," the flower huffed.
"What petals!" cried the man with an even louder roar laughter.
What was left of the flower started to droop sadly. The man stopped laughing.
He did not even have to ask to know that the flower had been through a lot, but to be kind he asked anyways.
The flower told him everything, even about being stepped on when it was only a blossom. It told him about all the children and how it had become such a sad and ugly flower with no petals. "The worst part is," it sadly explained, "it turns out that I am not even magic."
Although he pitied the flower, the man did not try to comfort it. Instead he carefully listened to the flowers stories. He felt sorry for it, but he also felt angry at all those that hurt it. He didn't want anyone else to hurt the flower anymore.
"It's okay if you aren't magical. Although its sad that you do not have your petals anymore." He spoke gently, but sincerely, as he took out a pair of scissors.
"If you would like, I can take you away from this dangerous place to somewhere safe. You can stay with me, and I won't let anyone step on you or take your petals -even though you don't have any."
The flower was afraid of the scissors, having never seen them before and not knowing what would happen. However, it felt like it could trust him. It felt something deep down inside that made it decide to leave the field forever.
Quick and painless, the man closed the blades of the scissors. He took the sad little stem and placed it into a glass of water in his house. This had not worked very well before, but somehow he felt like this time all the flower needed was some care.
He stared at the drooping stem. "How are you?" the man asked hesitantly.
Suddenly, something strange started to happen. A light was shining from the edges where the petals were torn. The man could not believe his eyes. The stem began to stand up, looking healthy and strong. The light grew brighter and became a soft silky shape. Sparkling petals blossomed from the stem, shimmering like diamonds, just as the flower had said. They wrapped around each other and became the fullest most beautiful flower he had ever seen.
"I'm fine, thank you," the flower said, and if a flower had a face it would have smiled.
"You see, the petals were the magic all along! To repay you, you can have as many petals as you like. You can even take all of them."
The man shook his head and laughed. "If those petals were magic, they would have grown back on their own. Maybe I am magic, because my glass of water brought them back."
The flower felt a little disappointed by this notion, and the man laughed even harder. "You silly flower," he said teasingly, "Why would I want to take your petals when I have the whole flower to myself."
This made the flower very happy, and the petals shined even brighter. That's when it realized that there was probably no magic in it at all.
The flower talked to the man all day and into the night. As the man laughed and teased it, the flower felt more and more happy. And it knew that was the secret, that the happiness, not petals, when shared with others was the most magical thing of all.
The field had many flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors. There were thousands, and they were all beautiful and wonderful in their own ways.
From afar the many flowers were so lovely that it was hard to choose any that stood out from the others. One would never know that such a special flower was there. In fact if someone happened to notice this poor flower among all the others, it would probably look like one of the least special flowers in the field.
During the short time of this flower's life a couple people dancing in the field had carelessly stepped on it. Although the flower had managed to survive and recover itself, its petals were crumpled and looked no good compared to the many healthy flowers growing all around it.
However these crumpled petals were the very reason the flower was magical. Looking very closely and in just the right lighting, the petals sparkled like they had been dusted with fine diamonds.
One sunny day a child was picking flowers in the field, when he noticed a small light nearby. The light shined only for a moment, but he had already guessed where the flower was.
At first he thought the light had reflected from some metal or lost treasure, and he looked closely around the flower for something of value. Again some light reflected into his eye, and now he realized that it came from the shimmering surfaces of the crumpled petals.
He had already picked many flowers which were thrown into a basket over his arm, but seeing how sad and worn this flower was he felt too sorry for it to pick it. Instead he carefully plucked the largest petal from the stem, gently slipped it into his pocket, and ran off to look for more flowers to pick.
The flower felt quite sad for the loss of her petal and began to weep.
Many children were playing in the field and one nearby happened to hear the tiny cries and searched for the sound curiously. When he found it he wondered at the way tears were dripping from the sad little flower. He didn't like that something as sweet and pretty as a flower was weeping, so he gently reached out a finger and tickled it.
The flower began to giggle, and it felt much better. The boy had not noticed the sparkling of the petals, so the flower leaned into the light to show him. This way it could repay his kindness by sharing a secret.
When the boy saw how the petals sparkled, he decided to take a small one for himself. He found the smallest petal, plucked it neatly, and ran off to play with his friends some more.
Where he had put it and if he still had it, the flower did not know.
A little while later another child suddenly lied down with a "huff" by the flower. He had left the group of children to take a nap alone. His head lay right next to the flower, crushing another one, and his hair tickled its nose.
The flower sneezed.
The boy was startled by this, and looked at the flower with amazement. Seeing it was missing petals, he quickly plucked one as well to examine it. He saw how the light reflected off the surface. It seemed to the flower that he could be appreciating it, but just then, as quickly as the child had come, he discarded the petal and ran away.
As the evening came, more children had wandered into the field in a small group. The flower wondered why children would be out so late. They seemed to be hiding. A child crouched down in the grass nearby, looking out for the others.
Mysteriously, this child also noticed the flower, perhaps in the strange way that people sense they are being watched. When he looked at it, there was no wonder or curiosity in him like the children from before. He seemed to ponder the flower for a moment, then with a laugh he ripped off all the remaining petals from the flower's stem. He ran back to a friend and handed him a handful of the petals, which did not shine in the darkness and were quickly thrown away and lost.
The flower cried all night over the loss of its magical shimmering petals. At this time there was no one to hear it but the moon and the stars, so it cried even louder than before.
In the early morning a sad little boy ran out into the field to cry alone, for he was lost. In between his own sobs he managed to hear that someone else in the field was also crying, and he stopped his own tears to look for them.
To his surprise he found what remained of the flower with tears running down its stem.
"What's wrong?" he asked with concern.
The flower was touched that he would listen to it and told him everything.
"So you see," it explained, "My petals were what made me beautiful and magical, and now I am nothing."
The boy, forgetting his own troubles for a time, comforted the flower. "It's true that you don't have any petals, but you are still magical."
"How so?" asked the flower.
The boy thought for a moment. "Well, for one, you are the only flower I have ever met that could talk and cry like you do."
The flower considered this, but could not feel better about the loss of its wonderful petals. It thought for a time, then solemnly concluded to the boy, "I am not anymore magical than you are. Please, I wish to be alone."
"Sorry about your petals," said the boy, "and sorry I could not make you feel better."
The flower said nothing.
The boy got up and walked off to find his way.
The flower sat alone in silence for a time, without crying or laughing, not even sneezing. Without petals it just looked like a blade of grass.
Time passed this way for what seemed like a long time in the short life of the flower, until one day a peculiar man came alone, studying the plants and flowers of the field.
He looked around with a magnifying glass, and spoke inquisitively to each living thing, "How do you do?"
The flower thought this was strange, because even children rarely spoke to plants this way. It wondered why the others did not speak up and answer him, but he just kept asking away. "Hey, how's it going?"
"Hi, what's your name?"
"How are you?"
Finally the flower could not stand just watching him. It cleared its throat and spoke up, "I'm fine, thank you."
The man looked around in surprise and settled his eyes on the flower. "You are?" he asked in astonishment.
"Yes, quite fine," the flower replied in a quick and almost unfriendly way.
After staring at it for a moment the man burst into laughter. "Is that so? Then how is it you are doing so fine?" He could not hold back his laughter as he spoke with the flower. "What kind of plant are you? A grass? A weed?"
The flower was a little offended. "Of course not, I am a flower! A magical flower, I might add!"
"How is it that you are magical then?" the man asked with a snort. He tried to compose himself, but every time he looked at that sorry excuse for a plant he could not help but laugh.
"My petals! They shimmer and glitter like gold and diamonds in the light," the flower huffed.
"What petals!" cried the man with an even louder roar laughter.
What was left of the flower started to droop sadly. The man stopped laughing.
He did not even have to ask to know that the flower had been through a lot, but to be kind he asked anyways.
The flower told him everything, even about being stepped on when it was only a blossom. It told him about all the children and how it had become such a sad and ugly flower with no petals. "The worst part is," it sadly explained, "it turns out that I am not even magic."
Although he pitied the flower, the man did not try to comfort it. Instead he carefully listened to the flowers stories. He felt sorry for it, but he also felt angry at all those that hurt it. He didn't want anyone else to hurt the flower anymore.
"It's okay if you aren't magical. Although its sad that you do not have your petals anymore." He spoke gently, but sincerely, as he took out a pair of scissors.
"If you would like, I can take you away from this dangerous place to somewhere safe. You can stay with me, and I won't let anyone step on you or take your petals -even though you don't have any."
The flower was afraid of the scissors, having never seen them before and not knowing what would happen. However, it felt like it could trust him. It felt something deep down inside that made it decide to leave the field forever.
Quick and painless, the man closed the blades of the scissors. He took the sad little stem and placed it into a glass of water in his house. This had not worked very well before, but somehow he felt like this time all the flower needed was some care.
He stared at the drooping stem. "How are you?" the man asked hesitantly.
Suddenly, something strange started to happen. A light was shining from the edges where the petals were torn. The man could not believe his eyes. The stem began to stand up, looking healthy and strong. The light grew brighter and became a soft silky shape. Sparkling petals blossomed from the stem, shimmering like diamonds, just as the flower had said. They wrapped around each other and became the fullest most beautiful flower he had ever seen.
"I'm fine, thank you," the flower said, and if a flower had a face it would have smiled.
"You see, the petals were the magic all along! To repay you, you can have as many petals as you like. You can even take all of them."
The man shook his head and laughed. "If those petals were magic, they would have grown back on their own. Maybe I am magic, because my glass of water brought them back."
The flower felt a little disappointed by this notion, and the man laughed even harder. "You silly flower," he said teasingly, "Why would I want to take your petals when I have the whole flower to myself."
This made the flower very happy, and the petals shined even brighter. That's when it realized that there was probably no magic in it at all.
The flower talked to the man all day and into the night. As the man laughed and teased it, the flower felt more and more happy. And it knew that was the secret, that the happiness, not petals, when shared with others was the most magical thing of all.
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