Sunlight faded to pinks and reds, then to purple-night hues, revealing a familiar scene. A huge, expansive, oak tree centred in the midst of a vibrant, overgrown garden protected all the plant- and wild-life that thrived here. Flowers of white, yellow, red, and blue sprouted all along the grassy floor, climbing up the hedge walls that shaped the area into a sizable, rectangular shape. Shrubs of deep, forest green leaves of all shapes dotted the landscape, as well, giving hideaway to bird’s nests and bee hives that the sounds of could be heard, clearly: tiny chirping and dull humming, respectively. Ferns grew between the bushes, and saplings of dogwoods and birches waved from side to side in the chill, midnight breeze that arose from the south.
Stone paths intertwined between the flora of the garden, across which scampered rabbits and mice. A squirrel zigzagged up the trunk of the giant, oak centerpiece, holding an acorn in its mouth and chittering, vivaciously. Underneath the tree, a stone, cracked, marble bench sat, gray and moss-laden; interspersed within the garden, cylindrical fragments of Greek and Roman columns lay, cracked with weeds coming out from within, ivy climbing and circling the stone masses. In each corner of the garden’s rectangle stood an armless, headless, nude statue: two female, two male.
A boy ran about the confines of the garden, giggling and tumbling on the ground; he tried to outrun a rabbit, and then entertained himself with the tall leaves of a fern. His hair was golden blonde, shaped in an upside-down bowl on top of his head, and it flew across his face as he ran. His mouth stayed continuously open in a wide-mouthed smile or innocent laughter, bright red tongue revealed to the world behind immaculate, ivory teeth. His eyes — normally an ocean blue — reflected violet in the moonlight, seeming to sparkle and dance as they darted to and fro, observing all the sights and movements of the garden. He wore a black, boy-sized tuxedo jacket, with red pinstripes, and a pale green, button-up dress shirt; a blue bow-tie was placed around his neck, and a blue cummerbund was wrapped about his stomach. A white corsage was pinned to his right-breast pocket, threatening to come loose with all the frantic running he was doing. His pants, black and pressed, had grass stains smeared from the knees-down. His shoes were brown leather and untied, squeaking underneath each of his steps and leaps.
An auburn-headed, teenage girl sat on the bench, hands in her lap and fingers laced together, placidly in a serene state of calm contemplation. She was dressed in a white, strapless evening gown that reached her ankles, where a pair of glittering, ruby-red slippers could be seen peeking out. Her skin was pale blue in the moon’s glow, and her face was shadowed in the darkness. She didn’t move, and did not speak.
From behind the oak tree, apparently having been in a place invisible before, a figure moved to standing beside the girl on the bench. It was a very soft-featured, albeit muscular man, clad in a yellow toga cinched by a belt of white silk. His hair was black and long, streaked with silver, stretching down to the middle of his back, between the two, folded wings that sprouted there, from his shoulder blades. The wings were feathered, each feather brown tipped with red, and were as long as he was tall. The winged man spoke, then, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“What brings you back?”
The girl slowly lifted her head, revealing the features of her face to the luminance of the night, pursing her lips. Her eyes seemed bewildered and frightened, shining with shifting colours of red, green and blue. She held a hand to her cheek, and moved her lips, soundlessly.
“You come to escape?”
The winged man shifted position, coming to face the front of the girl, directly in her field of vision. He kneeled, then, grasping her hand with his and bowing his head. On his forearms were golden, patterned bracers carved with intricate, floral designs. She looked at him, staring into his gray eyes that seemed larger than the sky.
“No? You come to mourn?”
“ . . . “
“Who has died?”
“ . . . “
Violent, loud sobbing then seized the girl, vibrating her body and dampening her face. The man took a seat next to the girl, embracing her with his arms and offering her a comforting shoulder. She curled up into his arms, crying in broken, jagged sobs that rocked her bones. The small boy-child who had been frolicking about the garden then stopped, abruptly, before the pair. Tilting his head to the side, he cocked an eyebrow and put a finger to his lips. “She’s such a fool.”
The winged man fixed the boy with a stern glare. “Do not speak in such unkind tones, little one.” The boy kicked the grass beneath his feet with his shoe, and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Why-y-y?”
“Because, young one, you do not understand her pain,” explained the man holding the nerve-wracked girl. The boy stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry, in reply. “Yes I do!”
The winged man raised an eyebrow. “Do you, o’ inexperienced child of the world?” Spinning around in place, the blonde child giggled. “Of course I do, silly.” Blankly gazing at the boy, the man had a look of expectancy. “How do you mean?”
“Oh, she’s just sad because her boyfriend is dead, but he deserved it, and she knows it. He’s dead because he was a bad person, and now he’s going to Hell, where he’ll pay for all his sins and live in eternal pain and suffering.”
“SHUT UP!” screamed the white-clad girl, wrenching herself from the man’s grasp and standing up, falteringly. Taking a menacing step forward, she balled her fists and spat at the tuxedo-clad boy-child. “You know nothing, you hear me? NOTHING!”
Dancing backwards on one foot, the blonde giggled melodiously and smiled like a fat tomcat. “Fibber! Fibber! I know who your boyfriend is, or was. He was a nobody: a worthless coward. He died like he lived — stupid and misgiven — and nobody ca-a-ares.”
Raising her hand, the girl bit back a sob and lurched forward. Swinging downward, she missed the boy who had, at the last second, dodged to the side and twirled around; she tumbled into the grass, letting out a small yelp. At this point, the man who had been on the bench rose to his feet and expanded his wings, in a grandiose and elegant way. “None of this behaviour, anymore, you torturous and cruel child.”
Skipping around in circles, the boy swung his arms widely and gleefully laughed. “Worth-less, no-good, ly-ing loser! Dead, dead, dead, maggots in his head! No-body li-ked his stu-pid face, and now he’s rotting in the fiery place!” Singing and prancing, the boy went around the tree and disappeared into the shadow of the tree. Pulling herself up from the ground, again sobbing furiously, the girl in the white dress sprinkled the garden with her tears. Taking her by the hand, the winged man assisted her to her feet, where she promptly fell forward and hugged him, tightly. Rubbing her back with one hand, the man had a neutral, emotionless expression on his face, disguising the guilt in his eyes. “It is fine, young one, his words mean nothing.”
A burst of static tore through the atmosphere, echoing and shattering the strained peace of the garden one thousand times. Jerking his head upward, the man raised a surprised face to the moon and vanished. Falling to her knees, the girl cried out in anger and fear, helpless as the ground fell apart and the garden broke apart into jagged shards like a broken mirror, reflecting all shades of colours. The familiar scene transformed rapidly into a blurry, indistinct, unfocused whiteness.
“ . . . That was the latest sing—“
Stone paths intertwined between the flora of the garden, across which scampered rabbits and mice. A squirrel zigzagged up the trunk of the giant, oak centerpiece, holding an acorn in its mouth and chittering, vivaciously. Underneath the tree, a stone, cracked, marble bench sat, gray and moss-laden; interspersed within the garden, cylindrical fragments of Greek and Roman columns lay, cracked with weeds coming out from within, ivy climbing and circling the stone masses. In each corner of the garden’s rectangle stood an armless, headless, nude statue: two female, two male.
A boy ran about the confines of the garden, giggling and tumbling on the ground; he tried to outrun a rabbit, and then entertained himself with the tall leaves of a fern. His hair was golden blonde, shaped in an upside-down bowl on top of his head, and it flew across his face as he ran. His mouth stayed continuously open in a wide-mouthed smile or innocent laughter, bright red tongue revealed to the world behind immaculate, ivory teeth. His eyes — normally an ocean blue — reflected violet in the moonlight, seeming to sparkle and dance as they darted to and fro, observing all the sights and movements of the garden. He wore a black, boy-sized tuxedo jacket, with red pinstripes, and a pale green, button-up dress shirt; a blue bow-tie was placed around his neck, and a blue cummerbund was wrapped about his stomach. A white corsage was pinned to his right-breast pocket, threatening to come loose with all the frantic running he was doing. His pants, black and pressed, had grass stains smeared from the knees-down. His shoes were brown leather and untied, squeaking underneath each of his steps and leaps.
An auburn-headed, teenage girl sat on the bench, hands in her lap and fingers laced together, placidly in a serene state of calm contemplation. She was dressed in a white, strapless evening gown that reached her ankles, where a pair of glittering, ruby-red slippers could be seen peeking out. Her skin was pale blue in the moon’s glow, and her face was shadowed in the darkness. She didn’t move, and did not speak.
From behind the oak tree, apparently having been in a place invisible before, a figure moved to standing beside the girl on the bench. It was a very soft-featured, albeit muscular man, clad in a yellow toga cinched by a belt of white silk. His hair was black and long, streaked with silver, stretching down to the middle of his back, between the two, folded wings that sprouted there, from his shoulder blades. The wings were feathered, each feather brown tipped with red, and were as long as he was tall. The winged man spoke, then, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“What brings you back?”
The girl slowly lifted her head, revealing the features of her face to the luminance of the night, pursing her lips. Her eyes seemed bewildered and frightened, shining with shifting colours of red, green and blue. She held a hand to her cheek, and moved her lips, soundlessly.
“You come to escape?”
The winged man shifted position, coming to face the front of the girl, directly in her field of vision. He kneeled, then, grasping her hand with his and bowing his head. On his forearms were golden, patterned bracers carved with intricate, floral designs. She looked at him, staring into his gray eyes that seemed larger than the sky.
“No? You come to mourn?”
“ . . . “
“Who has died?”
“ . . . “
Violent, loud sobbing then seized the girl, vibrating her body and dampening her face. The man took a seat next to the girl, embracing her with his arms and offering her a comforting shoulder. She curled up into his arms, crying in broken, jagged sobs that rocked her bones. The small boy-child who had been frolicking about the garden then stopped, abruptly, before the pair. Tilting his head to the side, he cocked an eyebrow and put a finger to his lips. “She’s such a fool.”
The winged man fixed the boy with a stern glare. “Do not speak in such unkind tones, little one.” The boy kicked the grass beneath his feet with his shoe, and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Why-y-y?”
“Because, young one, you do not understand her pain,” explained the man holding the nerve-wracked girl. The boy stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry, in reply. “Yes I do!”
The winged man raised an eyebrow. “Do you, o’ inexperienced child of the world?” Spinning around in place, the blonde child giggled. “Of course I do, silly.” Blankly gazing at the boy, the man had a look of expectancy. “How do you mean?”
“Oh, she’s just sad because her boyfriend is dead, but he deserved it, and she knows it. He’s dead because he was a bad person, and now he’s going to Hell, where he’ll pay for all his sins and live in eternal pain and suffering.”
“SHUT UP!” screamed the white-clad girl, wrenching herself from the man’s grasp and standing up, falteringly. Taking a menacing step forward, she balled her fists and spat at the tuxedo-clad boy-child. “You know nothing, you hear me? NOTHING!”
Dancing backwards on one foot, the blonde giggled melodiously and smiled like a fat tomcat. “Fibber! Fibber! I know who your boyfriend is, or was. He was a nobody: a worthless coward. He died like he lived — stupid and misgiven — and nobody ca-a-ares.”
Raising her hand, the girl bit back a sob and lurched forward. Swinging downward, she missed the boy who had, at the last second, dodged to the side and twirled around; she tumbled into the grass, letting out a small yelp. At this point, the man who had been on the bench rose to his feet and expanded his wings, in a grandiose and elegant way. “None of this behaviour, anymore, you torturous and cruel child.”
Skipping around in circles, the boy swung his arms widely and gleefully laughed. “Worth-less, no-good, ly-ing loser! Dead, dead, dead, maggots in his head! No-body li-ked his stu-pid face, and now he’s rotting in the fiery place!” Singing and prancing, the boy went around the tree and disappeared into the shadow of the tree. Pulling herself up from the ground, again sobbing furiously, the girl in the white dress sprinkled the garden with her tears. Taking her by the hand, the winged man assisted her to her feet, where she promptly fell forward and hugged him, tightly. Rubbing her back with one hand, the man had a neutral, emotionless expression on his face, disguising the guilt in his eyes. “It is fine, young one, his words mean nothing.”
A burst of static tore through the atmosphere, echoing and shattering the strained peace of the garden one thousand times. Jerking his head upward, the man raised a surprised face to the moon and vanished. Falling to her knees, the girl cried out in anger and fear, helpless as the ground fell apart and the garden broke apart into jagged shards like a broken mirror, reflecting all shades of colours. The familiar scene transformed rapidly into a blurry, indistinct, unfocused whiteness.
“ . . . That was the latest sing—“
posted by c.Jay Wrong at
2:01 AM
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