She was hurting. The arthritis in her knees was so bad that it was difficult to climb even one step. But every day, she would go up these steep, perilous steps. Every single day without break. People marveled at her perseverance and asked her why she did it. Why was the plant growing on top of the tower so important that she would take this hike without fail. She just smiled a sad smile and went about her business.
Then one day she didn’t come. Her daily visits were so punctual that one could set one’s watch by them, and her absence was noticed by all. They went to her home and found it empty. Concern for her safety rose to the level that they searched everywhere in the small town for her. But she wasn’t to be found anywhere. In the end they decided to look at the top of the tower where the flower was growing. A hardy gentleman was given this task. With lot of huffing and puffing he climbed the stone stairs and got to the top. There she was. Laying as if asleep. When he lifted her hand it was lifeless. And the flower was dead too. It looked as if the two were joined in spirit. The death of one meant the death of the other.
There are now many stories why the old woman used to tend the flower on the top of the tower, but nobody knows for sure. The secret died with the old lady.
In response to;
A prompt by Hélène Valiant