"Why, why is this flower not making me happy? Why do I still feel the same way as before?"
These were the words uttered over and over by Alias Kingman in his office in the tallest tower of Cliffcastle, the vast, somber mansion Kingman had constructed a while back on the very peak of a very tall cliff. All his service personnel and staff were afraid to knock on his door or enter, although Kingman had stayed in the same room for what was already an entire week, which caused frost to form all over the walls and even outside, on the door. Some servants feared that it had frozen shut, and that Kingman would be unable to open it and come out of that room ever again. Still, disturbing Kingman was a hefty crime, and no one dared to approach him or even knock.
Inside the room, the floor had turned to solid, slippery ice, and pretty crystals grew everywhere, even on the ceiling. Kingman was pacing worriedly to and fro. The Stella Mars stood on the table next to the nearby window: he kept it in a little glass container, so that it would not suffer from cold, or worse, wither away. The flower was now bleak in color and hung its blossom low to the base of its pale stem. Dewdrops rolled down its snout constantly, and it seemed to be crying.
"Let me go," the Stella Mars suddenly said, and Kingman stopped pacing and looked at it in wonder, for it had never spoken before.
"Tell me," he said, "why won't you make me happy?" He held up the flower in his hands, looking closely at it.
"I can't make you happy," the flower replied.
"Nonsense! You're an enchanted flower from Otherplanet, where all wishes come true."
"I can't make you happy," the flower repeated, and hung its head even lower. It was crying. "I want to go home."
"Not unless you make me happy first. If you do, and I know that you can, you obnoxious alien thing, I'll bring you right back to the museum."
"I don't want to go back to the museum. I want to go home, to Otherplanet."
"Fine," said Kingman. "Just make me happy, and I'll do as you wish." He put the flower down on the table again and looked at it, but it did not say anything. Its head was now lying on the ground, and it did not move anymore at all. Kingman reached under the glass canopy and gently touched its stem.
"Don't touch me," the flower said.