 |
| Taken at Monet's Garden in Giverny, Fr., by DG Hudson |
All around me, the scents of wisteria, and honeysuckle weave into my dreams. The smells of summer nights settle heavily in my mind. It's my favourite time, the resting time of flowers when the stamens release their pollen, as the air cools. My flowers fill the air with the smells of perfume, of rare tea and fragrant herbal sachets.
 |
| Rose Portrait, by DG Hudson, Rainforest Writing |
It's the dark hues, the sultry warmth, and earthy smells that lure me back again and again. The Temptress grows here, a deep, blood-red old-fashioned rose that smelled of the fields of flowers in France. Just watch for the sharp, sickle-shaped thorns. Next to it is Chicago Peace, with its petals painted warm orange with ivory and pink shading. Clematis, the charmer vine, climbs the old arbour in the corner, showy with its large purple blooms.
 |
| Wikipedia Creative Commons - by Michael Palmer* |
Come into my little sheltered garden and if you look closely, you will see roses with thick large thorns, and thorny brambles forming a natural barrier on the edges of my hideaway. Many para-gardeners, or hedge witches don't know about thorn horticulture, or understand the properties of the thorn itself. I do. I know the uses of the Black tulips, their petals closed in the evening air, and the blue flower of periwinkle nestled against the dark green leaves, but the best, the Grand Black Rose, I do not yet know. It was a gift and I have yet to study it.
Clomp, clomp, clomp! A small stop. Then, the sound started up again. The noise came from heavy footsteps on the flat stones of the garden path, a meandering line paving the way to my secluded spot. Someone was coming, as if on a matter of importance. . .who would dare interrupt my retreat?
Then, I saw the creature coming towards me, He looked like the hunchback who terrorized Paris, a fictitious man. Yet, here he was. And here I was, alone.
"Begging your pardon, m'lady," he said, "but I have been told to bring you out of this doomed garden."
"Doomed? Why do you say that?"
"I'm forbidden to speak for the master, but I bring a message: Himself would like to see you. . ."
"Oh, would he? And where would Himself be that I should come to him?"
"He is waiting below in a carriage." A Carriage? What is Himself thinking?
"I will do this thing you request, but I must grab a shawl."
"This one?" The hunched over creature held up my red shawl, the colour of fresh blood.
Damn him. How did he do that? "That one will do."
She twirled the shawl over her shoulders as she rose from the bench. Himself had better have a good reason for this. I'm vulnerable outside of this place of sanctity.
They walked down the stairs toward a dark black chaufferred carriage. A curtain pulled aside. . .
"Herself is lovely this night. I have a errand for you, my dark one."
"What if I don't agree?"
"Oh, but you will. You are under my protection, and under my spell. Herself has no choice."
"Perhaps."
"Agree and you will be released from the dark garden. You will have the light."
In answer, she turned, slipping the knife made from a giant thorn that absorbs moonlight into her hand and stabbing Himself right in his eye, then using it to slit his throat.
"I happen to like the dark garden. Himself does not know me well. . ."
The little hunchback had disappeared in smoke as Himself melted into a puddle. They had not known about the giant thorn's magic. She quickly stepped down from the carriage as it too disappeared and made her way back down the stone path to her refuge, humming to herself.
***
Please leave a comment to let me know you were here and tell me how you feel about gardens or gardening. Do you like to grow flowers or veggies or both? Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read a short fantasy. . .!
***
WEP - A GARDENS short fiction post
The Gardens prompt is all about creativity. What picture comes to mind when you hear the word 'garden'? It may depend on whether you like to garden or just like to observe the artistry and style of other gardens. Denise and Yolanda, or literary hosts for WEP would like you to tell how the prompt inspires you. . .enthrall us, please.
FLASH FICTION, POETRY, NON-FICTION, PLAYSCRIPTS, ARTWORK OR PHOTOGRAPHY. It's your choice of medium, and genre, but the word count should be about 1000 maximum. Check out more details at the WEP site, and there you will find the entrants participating in this challenge! Be sure to enjoy the variety of garden delights by visiting the links and commenting.
***
Dark Purple Clematis Image
by Michael Palmer:
This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.
***
