A character-led story about a blue tulip who keeps trying to turn the right way and discover whether she is real

 

Spread 1

Everyone knows
there is no such thing
as a blue tulip.

Everyone.

Except—

one morning,
in the garden,
a small bud opened.

And she was blue.

“Oh,” she beamed, her petals widening.
“Hello.”

 

“…Is this right?”

 

Spread 2

The tulips opened all around her—
red, yellow, pink, orange.

They stretched tall.
They stood together.

They turned toward the sun—
all the same way.

Blue watched closely.

Then—

she tried to turn with them.

A little.

“What are you?”

“I’m blue!” she said.

 

“…I think.”

“I want to turn the right way.”

Near the edge,
a small white tulip
opened quietly.

She did not say anything.

She watched.

 

Spread 3

The tulips leaned in.

They looked.
They blinked.

“No,” said Red.
“Tulips aren’t blue.”

They turned back—
all the same way.

Blue tried again—

a small turn—

not quite right.

“Oh.”

 

“…I’m still blue,” she said.

 

“Just checking.”

 

Spread 4

She looked up.

“Sky! Which way?”

The sky was busy being sky.

“…okay.”

She looked down.

“Grass?”

The grass kept growing.

“…also okay.”

 

“…not helping.”

 

Spread 5 

A line of ants marched by—

not past Blue,

but near the small white tulip.

Step-step.
Step-step.

“Left-right,” said the ants.

White Tulip looked down.

“…huh,” she said.

Step-step.

She watched them go.

Just for a moment.

 

Spread 6 

Blue watched the tulips.

They turned—
all together—
perfectly.

She stood very still.

 

“…okay,” she said.

“I’ll do it myself.”

“Very exact,”
“That is the key.”

Blue extended her petals wide.

She turned—

a little—

more—

more—

too much.

She tipped—

farther—

FARTHER—

“WAIT WAIT—”

“STOP!”—

She snapped back—

Petals flapped wildly.

 

“Not that.”

 

The tulips just stared.

 

Spread 7

That night, frost came.

Quiet.
Still.
Same.

Blue felt it settle.

She didn’t try this time.

“If everything is the same…”

“…how do I turn at all?”

She tried—

nothing.

She didn’t lean.
She didn’t turn.

“…oh.”

She closed her petals.

Small.

 

Spread 8

Morning came quietly.

Blue stayed still.

The little white tulip
opened beside her.

White leaned in.

Blue did not move.

Frost still clung
to White’s petals—
thin,
beginning to melt.

A drop slipped—

caught the light—

and for a moment—

Blue saw
something there.

 

“…no,” she whispered.

White waited.

Then—

Blue closed her eyes.

“…okay,” she said.

 

Spread 9

Blue blinked.

“Wait…”

She felt for it—

very slowly—

a small center.

“…there.”

 

She stood—

not turning,

not checking.

“…I’m blue,” she said.

 

She stayed.

 

Spread 10

The sun came out.

Everything opened.
Everything showed.

Blue did not change.

She moved—
a small, certain sway.

“…I’m blue,” she said.

 

Spread 11

Evening came.

A dew drop formed
on her petal.

She leaned in—slowly.

“Wait. Stay. I’m checking.”

The dew stayed.

She held still.

“Oh,” she said, her petals widening.

“You stayed.”

 

Spread 12

Night settled.

The garden rested.

White Tulip slept beside her.

Blue did not turn.

Blue did not check.

 

She did not need to.

“I’m blue,” she whispered.

“Real”

She held it.

And this time—

Blue beamed.