He stayed there for days-no- weeks, all things forgotten. All except for his reflection of course. His hunger was strong but his love for himself was stronger. He never blinked because he never wanted such beauty to leave his vision. People searched, but no one could find him, for no one knew the woods like he did. Some said that it was better that way, while others cried that such young, fruitful beauty shouldn't be wasted.

Narcissus never strayed, not even in death. When his physical body wasted away, he still remained. He remained until all that was left of him was a mere flower, yellow and white in color. It was beautiful, like he had been, and it had been named after who he used to be, his name. Narcissus.

And there it stood, ever since, still gazing upon the crystal pool.

Fin.