"I'll never be beautiful," cried the monster, "but maybe if I eat these beautiful flowers I will become as beautiful as they." And one by one the monster picked each flower, delectably savoring the taste of each delicate petal. He ate and ate until the meadow was desolate and bare. His stomach heaved painfully as he sat up and looked down at his bloated, wrinkled body. "I'm still but an ugly beast," the monster whimpered as he crumpled to the ground. "I shall never be as beautiful as these flowers.."
As the seasons passed the light from the creature's eyes slowly fell away and the monster died alone in the bare meadow.
But deep inside the monster's corpse, all the flowers he had consumed had laid seed and roots began to grow in the monster's damp body, warmed by the monster's heart. As his skin fell away beautiful flowers rose from his corpse and soon the word of the beautiful flowers spread across the land and many came to see the beautiful flowers.
Moved by the monster's unfortunate death, villagers and wanderers came far and wide to leave gifts at the monster's meadow. Many would leave mirrors so the monster could see how beautiful he was so his soul could pass peacefully into the beyond.
It's rumored that flowery hills were once the bodies of monsters who strived to become as beautiful as the flowers they once gourged on. So when climbing a flowering hill, remember that a monster rests here, so watch your step- and don't pick the flowers.

• Microns, watercolor, markers, coffee, and white ink.

(Old Art)