Fine Linen, Chapter Five

When the creaky cart came again, Lina didn't even complain. She looked forward with some curiosity to what would happen next. Perhaps there really was a purpose to all these things, even though it would clearly not result in anything beautiful! She had never felt less beautiful.
The wet plants were taken out of the water and piled on the cart. Then it rattled and groaned its way to whatever came next. Lina waited while bunches of dripping plants were carried away. When her turn came, she was astonished to find herself tied with many other plants in a bundle and propped in the chill sun in their own old familiar field! There were the blue hills, and the road, and the whitewashed houses. When the people had left and the breeze began to dry the flax, they whispered among themselves again, for the first time in a long time.
"Why?"
That was the uppermost question. What had been the purpose of all these terrible experiences, only to be put back in the same field where they had been born? They had already been standing here, doing perfectly well, minding their own business, and delighting the eyes of all who passsed. Now they were only ugly brown, half-rotted stalks. They couldn't even stand without being tied together. What was the point?
"Well, at least," said Lina, "we're in the sun again! And standing, more or less. That's something."
And the other plants agreed that it was.
So they stood and basked. But they began to feel their skin, which had been so strong and flexible, peeling and cracking in the sun and wind. It got worse and worse - some pieces actually chipped off and blew away - but no one came to do anything about it.
And time rolled on.

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire