The Sleepbell Bloom: Somniflora somnifera

Mystical glowing Sleepbell Bloom flowers in a misty forest, emitting soft violet and blue light

I didn’t mean to find it.


The path had vanished somewhere in the mist, and by the time I realized I was lost, a strange light had begun to flicker through the undergrowth — hues of violet, rose, and deep blue, like starlight caught in petals. Dozens of bell-shaped flowers swayed gently on stems no thicker than wire, their glow pulsing slowly, as if breathing with the forest.


And then — the chime.


It rose through the air, not loud, but impossible to ignore. The rhythm was slow and steady, and each tone made me feel deeply drowsy. I felt it more than I heard it, and with every note, my awareness drifted further from the world I knew.


My knees gave out beneath me and I sat down, not fully understanding why. The light surrounded me. I remember the color of the flowers, shifting like liquid glass. I remember trying to reach for my journal. Then — nothing.


I awoke almost an hour later, still in the same spot, my hands stained with moss, my journal unopened beside me. The bell-flowers still shimmered in rhythm, unchanged. Almost as if they were watching.


I’ve named the species Somniflora somnifera — the sleep-bearing bloom. It generates its own light, cycling between dreamlike shades. The chime, for reasons I can’t explain, leaves no trace on any recording device. But its effects are undeniable.


This flower doesn’t seem to be predatory. It doesn’t trap — it lets you go. But it erases urgency. It persuades you to surrender to rest, and in a safer place, that might even be a kindness. Still, its presence unsettles me. If someone were to encounter this flower near a cliff edge, or beside a flooded path, that’s where the danger lies — not in malice, but in the wrong moment of surrender.


I’ve taken no samples. The longer I stayed, the more certain I felt that removing even a single bloom would have consequences I couldn’t predict. Not everything in this forest reacts well to interference. I’ll mark the location in the margin of my map. If the flower allows itself to be found again, it will.


Until then, I’ll remember the chime. And I’ll stay cautious of how much I want to hear it again.

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