Jealousy.The feeling boils in her stomach, like a bed of hot rocks. It burns bright, the only bright thing in her shadowed little alcove beneath the roots of a great big tree.
Jealousy, because there, only a few feet away, so close she could reach out and touch it, was the sun. The sun, that was never for her. Only for the pretty one. The one with full petals and a gleaming smile.
So instead of warming herself beneath the rays of the sun, she sunk back, jealousy giving way to sadness as the sun shone brightly on one, and neglected the other.
The ghost of a flower shrunk into her den, pretending that she was as pretty as the sun's chosen favorite. And like a dream, her wish came true. After time, when it grew cold and she slept, and warm again, and repeated a few more times, the ghost flower was as pretty as the sun's chosen.
But in her den, the sun could not shine, and her transformation was for naught.