A Drop of Love – Love Short Story
A Drop of Love – Love Short Story
Photo credit: jdurham from morguefile.com
A dewdrop found itself resting on the petal of a rose. That was the only memory the dewdrop had about itself. It was born there, condensed from a cloud of fog and there it resided in happiness.
Something always lured the drop; a pull towards the heart of the flower since the petal was sloppy. The dew felt its destiny already marked out but it was confused.
It said to the rose, “What would happen if I slid into your heart?”
The flower looked at the drop. There was a peculiar grace to the dewdrop. And the sun was sharing its glee with the crystal soul of the drop. The flower fell in love with the dewdrop all at once.
“I will…” the flower blushed, “I will receive you into my soul and transform you into honey.”
The dewdrop could not decide what to choose. The company of the flower was mesmerizing. Its fragrance was unique. But what it said was dubious. It said it will transform the dewdrop into honey.
‘What is honey?’ The dewdrop thought. ‘Would it mean I have to disappear and perish? Whom shall I ask for guidance?’
Then, as if the thought itself came into life, a sweet humming was heard. The flower and the plant were made to dance with slight tremor. The drop did not see anyone. But there came a question, “Who are you looking for?”
“Who are you?” The dewdrop asked.
It was strange that still there was no one in sight.
“I am the breeze,” said the voice, still invisible.
“Why are you invisible?” asked the drop.
“This is how I am, if you are born with your guileless soul, I am born with the cloak of invisibility.”
“Can you help me?” asked the dewdrop.
“Sure, tell me how.”
“The flower asked me to come inside her bosom, and she would transform me into honey. I do not know what to do. Do I have another choice? If I slipped over the petal, I will fall down into hell,” the voice of the dewdrop trailed off into sadness when it said this.
There was silence for the next moment. Then the breeze said, “Down below, there is the earth, not hell. However, you have another choice; you can contemplate the sun and when its rays are powerful enough they will lift you up to the heavens and take you back to the place where you were born.”
“Am I not born here?” the drop asked, surprised.
“No, you are taken here from the sky. The sky is your birthplace.”
“Then I do not want to go back, because I do not remember anything from the place of my birth,” said the dewdrop, “I want to live and experience the most beautiful thing in life.”
The breeze almost stopped for a moment and the dewdrop thought it had gone away without helping.
“How can I live and experience the most beautiful thing in life? Can you guide me please?” the dewdrop almost cried.
Suddenly a ray from the sun came down and poked its soul with a variegated wand as if to console.
The petal again trembled slowly; the breeze was right there in front of the magnificent dewdrop, invisible, studying the magic its soul shared with the world.
“The flower is in love with you and is ready to transform you into the sweetest thing within its heart; how foolish you are not to realize it,” whispered the breeze, which the dewdrop could not hear. “How easy it is for someone to ignore the transforming power of love.”
“I will help you,” said the breeze suddenly louder.
The dewdrop felt the tremor once again, this time much powerful; and it felt itself gliding down slowly. Before the next moment, the dewdrop embraced the heart of the flower. There was a trail of chill left on the petal. The flower smiled at the dewdrop and the dewdrop felt blessed with the touch of love. It didn’t ask anything else, for by then it knew the most beautiful thing in life—love.
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