Horticultural Tensions

20260801

Prompt from “DailyPrompt.com”.

Everyone knew the village Flower Show was a friendly competition. Lizzie and Dom would be the first to tell you so. And the last people anyone would believe.
They insisted that it was simply love for the art of magical horticulture which led them to spend months preparing their entries. And of course they were simply trying to do their best, with no concern to what anyone else might be entering.
Especially not their next-door neighbour.
It was near impossible for anyone in their cul-de-sac to enjoy summer, for the combined experimental stench wafting from the two gardens kept you inside with your windows firmly shut, no matter how stiflingly hot the weather. The flowers themselves weren’t a problem, but brewing of alchemical fertilisers, fermenting of arcane manure, and who knew what else was unceasing.
“Nearly over.” Neighbours bracingly murmured to one another, and reassured their restless children. “Just have to get to the show.”
Because the rest of the year the pair managed to be perfectly amicable, and were content to potter about their gardens causing no fuss. But give them a blue paper rosette to fight for and suddenly all bets were off.
Nobody was quite sure how the feud started. Lizzie insisted that the first show they both competed Dom had won with a marvellous bubble-blowing orchid. Dom insisted that Lizzie had been the first winner of the two, her singing lilies stealing the show.
Plenty of people had asked Old Mavis to check her records and settle the question once and for all, but she simply sniffed and peered over her spectacles and grumbled “They’d just find something else to argue about.”
So the mystery remained. And with it, the perfectly friendly competition.
Every year they would be at the church grounds before anyone else. As if getting set up was a race. Or perhaps they simply wished to ensure they got their favourite spots, for they always set up their displays in the same place. Equidistant from the entrance, facing each other across the large lawn.
And then they would stand for hours, waiting for everyone else to arrive, eyeing each other. Too far away to properly see the other person’s entry.
Not that it mattered, for it was all in good fun.
Even once the rest of the village arrived it was hard to get either of their attention. Best to just let them strew, while everyone else chatted and gossiped and admired one another’s entries and played the guessing game of “who’s going to get which prize this year”. While ignoring the tension crackling across the lawn.
Carter had once declared that “When those two young fools straighten their noses out, they’ll be an unstoppable team”. Earning him immense and withering scorn from both young people in question, for the entire rest of the day.
Absurd! Ludicrous! Preposterous, even. The nerve!
Since then, it had been agreed, unspoken, to just leave them to it. At least that kept the competition mostly friendly.

Prompt was “Two people have been locked in a petty competition for months without ever acknowledging it out loud…”