The Garden {HWC2013}

Happy Halloween all. This is my first attempt at a short story and will probably be terrible but i always wanted to try. Be gentle.


The Garden

Another wave of icy wind licks my flesh and with it came a swarm of tiny raindrops, crashing into my left side. Dark, cold and unsure why I was here or how I came to be in his garden.
I am rooted, frozen in place and I find myself staring unflinchingly at the golden glow of the kitchen window.

The warmth and comfort of their house reminds me I know them, but how? Are they my parents and I angered them? This must be the reason I sit here, ousted. Remembering my past is stymied by the grip of the bitter night but I must know.

My vision blurs slightly as I am once again lashed by a torrent of reckless rain, but as that fades I focus on my surroundings, perhaps a clue to my sentence is hiding in the dark. The ground under me is muddied and laden with fat pumpkins. Their vines looping and arching, their spiked arms twist and gnarl as they reach out and grip the fleshy treasure. It seems I share the same fate as my temporary neighbours. We both are cruelly left locked to the garden floor, unable to move from the ravages of the soaked night.

The shuffle of leaves behind me breaks my panic for a second. A tree must be close because I feel it’s shelter on my right side. Had it not been there I would surely be weather-battered from every angle and for that I am silently thankful to the sentinel.

My thoughts switch sharply back to the house as I catch the figure of a man standing by the kitchen window.
“I know you” I whispered to myself.
This man is my father. He gave me life, raised me, loved me but why did he leave me here to suffer the agony of the cold night?

The soothing light of the house blinks off and leaves me alone again.

As my eyes slowly adjust to the pitch black I become very aware of where I am. The grey, fuzz of the lawn is circled by an ominous congregation of black bushes, secretly judging all in their presence. The only other thing I can recognise in the garden was a tall, slender silver birch.
I remember this beautiful tree during the summer days, dazzling in the sunlight but now, this night it looked panicked with each gust. Stripped naked in the autumn twilight, it’s claw-like limbs grasped out to the house as if begging for rescue. I feel it’s pain, I know it’s plight.

Spinning thoughts of terror and confusion start to slow as my body prepares for sleep. Escaping the night with unconsciousness was a pleasing thought and maybe the sun’s warm touch in the morning will offer me some answers.

Footsteps crunching the gravel pathway shocked me awake. I was drowsy and still numb from the cold night but I felt the sun thawing me as I lay.
The footsteps now surround me, has he come for me? Am I forgiven for whatever crime I committed? Excitement floods through me as thoughts of escaping my soggy, dirty bed course around my mind recklessly.

I shudder and shake as he tries to raise me. Helping, was out of the question, I still could not move, my body rigid and cold still.
“What is that??”
A loud cracking noise echoes around the dawning garden.
“Did that come from me? Surely not, probably a branch – yeah has to be it”.
Finally I start to rise, he is lifting me. I hear him groan as he struggles with my portly girth and I don’t blame him, I am just grateful at the prospect of going to the warmth of his home, away from the dankness, the coldness, the loneliness.
My massive weight was evident as he slams me down onto the kitchen table and gushing out a mighty puff of air from his bloated cheeks.
“Excited for Halloween yet dear?” he bellowed out to his wife in a child-like cackle.
Puzzled now as I try to process the lack of attention I was receiving in my fragile state and what is this Halloween? I don’t remember this word.

I looked up at him as he stood over me, he looked proud and that made me feel i had achieved whatever it was supposed to learn out there. Now I am home and I am ready to be loved again.

My father turned and picked up a large knife, rotating back toward me he looked down again, curling his lip slightly in decision.
“What is he going to do?” My thoughts race, questions crash into my mind about his intentions and just as quick as I started to think he sank the blade deep into me. The pain was searing and unrelenting as he cut deeper.
“What did I do that deserved such hate from my father? Why was he killing me?”
My body feels drained now, the pain numbing and my thoughts settling.
It is quiet now as a ray of sunlight bounds through the kitchen window and collides with the mirror of his knife, it creates a flash of brilliant light. And then dark and then nothing.

I feel light now, the burden of my weight had been alleviated, I was empty, I was alive.
It was night again and I was sat on the porch of my father’s house staring out with burning eyes at the garden I despised the night before. I see the patch of mud I occupied and I am saddened with thoughts of my pumpkin brothers having to endure it still. But I am free of it, I am burning bright.
Warm flame fills me and bursts from my gifted features. It is beautiful and I have my purpose.

Well done!

Beautifully themed for the approaching tradition..

Loved the twist at the end.. didn't catch until about halfway through.

Once again, Nice Job! Great writing.

Respectfully yours,

-AA

For a first attempt at writing a story, let me say, you did an excellent job!
I honestly loved it from the beginning to the end. You write beautifully, with very vivid description, and indeed the twist at the end was very good.
Star and flag, and hope you write more in the future.

Great story, especially since it's your first one! You really have a beautiful way with words.

Thanks so much for the kind words guys, i wasn't really sure what to expect. It is nice to know at what point the twist is realized by others because i already know in my head what happens, so i can't judge it. (if that makes sense )