Mara cleaned the dishes with a firm and agile hand. Being the only girl in the family, she had taken on the same chores as her mother, as was custom amongst the families of the town of Bellavista.
“Everyone is born equal and the same goes for flowers. The bees do not come only to the roses, nor the lilies or the orchids or the sunflowers. They come equally to all. There is no Queen in a field of flowers. No King, no peasants nor servants. Even the bellflower is divine,” her mother said as they were cleaning dishes in the beginning of autumn. Mara agreed with a nod. The trance-like state which often occurred whenever she was put to monotonous tasks, and she soon forgot to listen and slipped into daydreams. She thought of her friends from her early childhood. The once who had stayed, and the ones who had left Bellavista for good.
It was custom amongst the children of La Marana to play in the bushes and meadows in the hot and humid terrain. For the girls, bird feathers and coloured stones made it out for precious tiaras and destined diadems.
Marabellas best friend, Naya, always had a bird feather or two in her long, raven-black hair, and although having little concern for her appearance, Mara had envied her flair for embellishing her already beautiful appearance. Of course, Naya would never hurt a fly, and so, all the feathers she ever possessed she had found around the nests of the large red angelism trees towering next to the gravel roads, on the outskirts of town. Keeping her collection in the bulky cedarwood dresser in her bedroom, Naya carefully placed every feather back in its place whenever done playing princesses. All the red and green ones were placed neatly alongside one another in the rightful color progression, while the much rarer blue and black feathers were placed above the larger collection, allowing for their more prominent display.
The words of Naya sounded in her head as Mara recalled their childhood games. Unlike the Dead Oak Club, which had continued to develop into an actual functioning association, the Sunflower Club only existed in the minds of its members. Sometimes, family is found outside the family, and sisterhood perhaps even more frequently so. Following the exclusion from her blood relatives, Mara knew all too well, that family was whatever one made it up to be.
“I will tell the bumblebees on you! Or maybe even the ocean! And know that she won’t be pleased to know you stole a precious stone, maybe she will even swallow you whole!” Naya had exclaimed in a furious cry before turning on her heals and heading back home. Only moments before, Mara had lost her most precious feather; the blue and orange one, to the wind which had sent the precious treasure out over the valley from where it had come. The one she had found on her trip to Quiltaca. The one she cherished above all others. Frightened, she envisioned the crushing waves of the ocean as the sea goddess demanded it swallow her whole. Of course, there were also the boys.
Like many other fine orders around the world, The Dead Oak Club started out as simple children’s play. The four Cruciarra boys had found the dead oak first, much to the disarray of the two Arreala sisters and their strange friend Nellie Valderrama and had named their assembly thereafter. Thus rightfully, they had claimed the rights to name their communion after its astonishing branches that made out their new favourite playground. As the only children left in the small outskirt area of Bellavista however, they had all continued playing together despite their deadly rivalry. Afterall, there was simply no one else around to play with.
As the years went on, the order eventually evolved into a real order, a family tale, and soon enough, it had its own manifesto. Like many orders of its time, the priory required following certain morals, values and even had its own code of conduct. Against the order stood only its most dreaded opponents, The Sunflower Club. Consisting of three assertive girls, the Fellowship thought themselves far superior in both intelligence and might when standing up against the four boys of the neighbouring village of Bellavista. The arrogant Cruciarra boys had created the Dead Oak Club in response to a school assignment about forming community, but before they knew it, the girls had created a powerful communion of their own.
Of course, they all eventually grew apart. Two of the boys married foreign girls with high-pitched voices and tall ponytails, while the other two moved into larger towns. As expected for most rural girls however, the members of the club instead fulfilled their expectations of their families, taking over where their mothers had left off. Running the household, keeping cutlery, corners, and children clean was still of great importance around the households of Bellavista. Just as it had been since the beginning of time.
Mara slipped out of her trance-like state as her mother spoke anew.
“Roses though, are the most hysterical of flowers,” she continued while imitating the great Rosacea flowers. “Too much sun, too little water, too much fertilizer - nothing is ever good enough for roses,” she had added with a sigh while rolling her eyes as she watered the rare purple breed crawling up against the back wall of the garden.
“With roots dating back to ancient times, perhaps it was not so unreasonable for the great Rosacea’s to feel slightly more entitled than other kinds of flowers,” her mother finished with a sigh.
“Sounds like Aunt Aurelia,” Mara giggled but swiftly turned her eyes downwards by the vision of her mother’s deadly stare and shake of her head. It was true, nonetheless.