The Curse of the Crimson Petals

...🔥🌳🔥...

Summer in the Philippines isn't just about the sticky sweat or the sun's scorching kiss on the skin. For me, summer has a color: a blazing red that looks like blood spilled on the asphalt. It was the color of the Fire Trees—the Caballeros—that bloomed at every corner of our small town whenever April and May arrived. They were beautiful, yes, but they looked like warnings. Like nature was bleeding to tell us something we weren't ready to hear.

I was only ten years old then. I was a child of scuffed knees and messy ponytails, chasing the ghost of a lost toy. My favorite doll was missing, a small gift from Mama before she was taken by heaven. For a child, losing the last memory of a loved one felt like the end of the world.

"I'll find you," I whispered to the wind as I walked along the roadside.

The heat was oppressive, shimmering in waves above the black pavement. The air smelled of a mix of dry earth and the sweet, slightly bitter fragrance of the Fire Tree flowers. Every step I took was accompanied by the rustle of red petals falling like crimson snow. It was a picturesque afternoon, the kind you'd see in a travel brochure, but there was a heavy stillness in the air that felt... wrong.

I stopped under a large Fire Tree. There, in the shade of branches that looked like fingers straining to reach the sky, I sat down and began to sob. My tears were hot and messy. That was where I first saw her.

A woman approached me.

She moved with a grace that didn't belong in the dusty streets. She looked like a vision of peace amidst the scorching heat. She wore a white dress that danced slightly in the breeze. Her smile was like a cool glass of water in the middle of a desert—refreshing, kind, and filled with a motherly warmth that I had long been craving.

"Why is this beautiful child crying?" she asked. Her voice was like wind chimes, soft and melodic.

I looked at her, wiping my eyes. "My toy is missing. It was a gift from my Mama..."

She sat beside me under the red canopy of the trees. She wasn't afraid of getting her white dress dirty. She took out a handkerchief and gently wiped my cheeks. "Don't cry anymore. Sometimes, things that are lost aren't truly gone. They’re just resting or finding a way to be replaced by something more important."

She reached for my hand. From her pocket, she pulled out something that shined under the sunlight. It was a bracelet.

It wasn't just any piece of jewelry. It was silver, intricately designed with small charms that rattled softly. There was a weight to it that felt ancient, almost sacred.

"This is my favorite," she said, as she fastened the bracelet onto my small wrist. "I want you to have it. So you won't be sad anymore. This bracelet will protect you. Just think of every jingle as my voice telling you to stay strong."

"But... why?" I asked, amazed by the shimmer of the silver against my skin.

She stroked my hair. "Because children with kind hearts should never run out of reasons to smile."

I hugged her.

I didn't even know her name, but I felt a connection that defied logic. She smelled like expensive perfume and vanilla—a scent that blended strangely well with the metallic tang of the fire trees.

We stayed like that for a few seconds—a stranger and a yearning child, meeting under the blazing red.

"I have to leave for a bit, dear," she said as she pulled away from the hug. "My husband and child are waiting for me. We're going to a holiday celebration."

She stood up and walked toward a black vehicle parked nearby. Before she entered, she turned and waved. Her white dress was the only thing that wasn't red in my field of vision.

That was the last time I saw her smile.

I continued walking, holding the bracelet as if it were an amulet. But the peace of that afternoon was short-lived.

As I was crossing the road usually covered in Fire Tree petals, I heard the bone-chilling screech of brakes.

Screeeeeeeeech!

A fast-moving vehicle lost control. Paralyzed by fear, my feet were frozen in the middle of the asphalt. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact.

But before I could be hit, a pair of strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me away.

We tumbled onto the grass, both gasping for air. My heart was thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird.

When I opened my eyes, a man was kneeling in front of me. I couldn't make out his entire face because of the sun's glare, but I saw a distinct tattoo on his arm while he made sure I didn't have a scratch. He looked panicked, his eyes darting toward the main road where chaos was already unfolding because the car had crashed into a shop.

"Are you okay, kid?" he asked quickly.

I was still too dazed to answer.

Before I could speak, his phone suddenly rang. His face turned pale as he listened to the person on the other end. "What? No... I'm on my way!"

He looked at me one last time, a gaze full of urgency and a mysterious bitterness.

"Stay here. Don't leave." And in an instant, he ran away, disappearing into the smoke and the red flowers dancing in the wind.

He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone with the silence of my own shock.

"Suanne! My child!"

I heard a familiar voice when the police arrived.

It was Papa.

He rushed toward me, his uniform rumpled and his face filled with intense fear. When he saw me sitting on the grass, he immediately knelt and carried me.

"My God, Suanne..." He embraced me so tightly I could hardly breathe.

I could feel his shoulders trembling. My father, the strong policeman I knew, was in tears. His tears fell on my hair, warm and salty.

"I thought I had lost you, too."

"Papa, someone saved me," I whispered, but he didn't seem to hear me in his overwhelming emotion.

He just kept whispering my name as if it were a prayer.

I looked up at the Fire Trees. The sun was slowly setting, making the red of the petals even more vivid.

It was the last day of my childhood innocence.

In one afternoon, I received a gift from a female stranger, and my life was saved by a male stranger. Both disappeared, but they left me in the middle of a question without an answer.

They say summer is a season for growth.

But for me, that summer was the beginning of a secret.

The Curse of the Crimson Petals.

The bracelet on my wrist grew warm, stained with dirt from my fall, but it remained shining. I didn't know then that this gift wasn't just an ornament.

It was a key.

Since then, whenever I see Fire Trees, I don't see beauty. I feel the ghost of the hands that pulled me from death and the smell of vanilla that floated in the air before everything turned to chaos.

Ten years have passed. The trees have bloomed once more. The heat is returning. And under these trees, amidst the falling red petals, a story I thought was buried in oblivion will begin.

This summer, it won't just be flowers falling. Masks will fall, too. And behind every kiss, every unscripted encounter, and every lie, there is a truth that has long been waiting to be found—beneath the blazing Fire Trees of summer.

...~•°°°•~...

...Author's Note: The past is like fire—it can give you warmth, or it can consume you. And beneath the Caballero trees, the truth always carries the color of blood....

...🔥🌳🔥...

...AerixielDaiminse...

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