The Boy Who Grew Flowers

Rink Bowagon was a boy from the deep country. He lived out past where the blacktop road became a dirt road, and the dirt road petered out into a little footpath.

The path wound through the ancient trees of a wild forest, hopped Black Bear Creek, headed all the way up Lonesome Mountain, made a right-hand turn and ran smack into the Bowagons’ door.

The Bowagons were the only folks who lived on Lonesome Mountain. The townspeople argued as to whether it was because they were such strange folk that they lived there, or whether it was because they lived there that they were such strange folk.
However, everyone agreed that the Bowagon clan was a hotbed of strange and exotic talents. Rink’s Uncle Dud liked to tame rattlesnakes, and his brothers and cousins were all shape-shifters.

But Rink himself had the most special talent of all: during the full moon he sprouted flowers all over his body. It was a beautiful sight, and they were the prettiest, sweetest-smelling and longest-lasting blossoms you ever saw.

Some folks might stay home sick in bed if they happened to sprout – but not Rink. Every morning following a full moon, his mama would gently clip the flowers from her boy and off he would go to school.

Now, Rink liked school, at least he liked the thinking and reading part.

But he was shy and quiet and different from the other children, so the teacher gave him a seat at the back of the room and did not bother with him.

As for the children, they had all heard rumors about Rink’s strange relatives, so they stayed at a safe distance from him.