Frank knew something was amiss when he saw the flowers. He didn't mind flowers, but they never grew abundant in his front yard, not even before his wife died. Claire had loved plants and nursed rows of seedlings each spring. Inevitably, each hot, dusty summer got the better of them.
While this couldn't stop Claire, Frank never bothered to plant anything after she passed away three years ago. Except on her grave, in a secluded corner of the cemetery.
It had become a habit to visit the spot each Sunday, watering the flowers, sitting a while on the bench beneath the willow tree. Frank didn't pray, but he missed Claire. His loving thoughts were prayer enough.
This Sunday, when he returned from the graveyard, he stopped in his driveway in utter shock. The yard drowned in blossoms. It looked as if all of Claire's failed attempts finally took root. The well-trodden path to the front door vanished in a sea of colours. Frank shook his head and entered the house. While setting up the kettle, he glanced out of the kitchen window and gasped in awe. The backyard featured an even more impressive collection of buds as the front lawn.
With his mug of strong black tea, Frank settled in Claire's old rocking chair on the back porch. A flowery fragrance hung over the garden and he closed his eyes, thinking of his lost love. Peacefully, he slept away the afternoon.
The miraculous wave of growth dominated the evening news. If Frank hadn't witnessed it with his own eyes, he would have believed it a hoax. People were baffled, including the few scientists the local news channel got hold of on a Sunday afternoon.
He spent Monday morning outside, marvelled at the beauty and missed Claire to share it with. Later, when he walked down to the grocery, he realised there was a real problem. The road was partially overgrown with lush grass speckled by pretty wildflowers. Cars rolled through the new meadow at walking pace. On the way back, he encountered a big mowing machine. The city council tried to keep the roads open by all means.
At home, he switched on the news channel. The situation affected the whole country in a similar way. No one offered a convincing explanation for the unexpected growth.
The following morning, Frank had troubles opening the front door. A thick cover of ivy enveloped his house. On the way to the grocer, to stock up on food, he observed tree saplings as thick as his thumb growing out of the sidewalk.
A blond, attractive news anchor spoke about vegetation rapidly recapturing the Sahara desert. She seemed distressed. So were the politicians, most scientists and self appointed experts. Only environmentalists showed happy faces. 'Earth's revenge' became their new slogan. Frank feared their triumph might be short-lived.
Frank met the alien on the fifth day.
The television stations had cancelled broadcasting. While he cooked breakfast, electrical power failed. He heated a cup of coffee over an old gas burner, remembering his last camping trip with Claire. That was what, thirty years ago? Maybe even more. He found no replacement for the gas cartridge.
Later, he paid a last visit to Claire's grave. By then he was convinced humans were done for. Without cars and fridges and power plants, in short without all the advantages of Industrial Age, only very few persons would be able to survive and sustain themselves. Frank didn't mind too much. He'd lead a happy life with Claire by his side. Now he felt tired and ready to pass on.
The cemetery was a jungle. It took him long to locate his beloved one's grave-marker in the sea of blossoms. His favourite bench miraculously still stood beneath the willow. He sat down and let his gaze wander over the changed graveyard, his mind at peace.
The stranger landed in an egg-shaped craft only fifty yards away and approached slowly through waist-high grass. At first, Frank took it for a woman wearing a billowing dress. Then he realised this was no human. A thin veil or cloak flowed around a lithe, androgynous body covered in silvery, fishlike scales. The figure's facial features were perfect, symmetrical and of an unearthly beauty, the pupil-less eyes dark pools of shadow. It sat down next to Frank.
He didn't really count on an answer when he started the conversation.
"Well, you people at least gave us a colourful goodbye."
The alien turned its head, leaning closer. A faint fragrance of cinnamon filled Franks nostrils, reminding him of Claire's apple pie. The visitor reached out a sleek, five-fingered hand and gingerly touched Frank's knee. He heard the stranger's words resound in his head.
'Not goodbye. Welcome.'
Frank raised his eyebrows, a witness of science fiction become real.
"Welcome? How?"
'Sadly, we had to leave your planet a long time ago, after all the seeds were planted. Now, finally, we return to establish perfection.'
"Perfection? What do you call perfection?"
'A world for your short-lived species to enjoy, to breed, feed, and frolic in the meadows without fear or sorrow.'
Frank doubted the prospect of frolicking in meadows appealed to many of his fellow humans, in spite of the pretty flowers. The strangers seemed to have missed out on some crucial parts of human evolution and history.
"What if humans struggle to achieve more than breed and feed?"
'You are a very young and short-lived race. You shouldn't waste your time with struggles and worries. It troubled us to leave you alone on a half-formed planet. Now we are back to care for your needs. Now you may thoroughly enjoy the short period given to your kind.'
"And what if we like to decide how to spend our lives ourselves?"
For the first time, the stranger emitted an audible sound. It could have been an incredulous laugh.
'Decide for yourself? You are far too young and innocent, mere children in the universe. But don't fret, we are here to guide and educate you.'
Suddenly, a far distant explosion shook the ground and a dark cloud of smoke billowed into the sky. The stranger stood up, not so calm and self-assured anymore. Without another word the alien hurried to its craft and took off.
Frank leaned back, a faint smile on his lips. Educate? The aliens were in for some interesting surprises, he thought. But so were humans. Well, he was sure they were about to throw down the gauntlet and engage the aliens in a worthy fight for independence.
Not that he himself would be alive to witness the war.
His pills ran out two days ago and the nurse never brought replacements. His weak heart would give out any time now.
It was a good day to die, he thought, here, at Claire's grave, amidst the flowers.
