Estranged Stories Week 3: Blossoms V1

in #writing5 years ago


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Well, it seems that I post the next entry later and later every week... anyways, the prompt this time was "The flowers from this garden are the most precious commodities in the realm… for a very good reason", and I planned SO MUCH backstory, from the reason the garden was so beautiful, to indications of a wider world (homebrew from my D&D campaign) and a lot of magic creatures arround... but I ended up making something more self-contained, is it good?, maybe.

When you think you see a gem coming out of the earth, or maybe a bundle of fine silk, you are probably hallucinating, but if you are in a certain small town in the countryside, you would see a living treasure in its outskirts. A hoard of reds, yellows, violets, and many other colors in shades of brightness and velvet, the most beautiful garden in the realm, the pride and joy of the town.

Some said it was a blessing from the gods, some said it was a gift from the faerie court, everybody contemplated while thinking about stealing one or two roses. The caretaker never gave out her secrets –always saying “love” was the key-, but from time to time she gave out flowers to people. That old lady was the only one that worked in the garden, but the town assigned guards to keep her safe, she accepted them most of the time, with the exception of a couple of nights every year, and never letting them inside the house.

One thing was for sure, and that is something special was going on, either divine, dark or alchemical. But no one was hurt, everyone was happy, so it was all good, that was the official thought except for the curious and the drunk who passed by the gate to the gardens at the bewitching hour. They saw –believed- lights, reddish and floating between the roses and other flowers, and it gave them chills, especially when they though they heard a soft humming, and the old lady came from the back of the house, holding a barrel that she emptied on the earth under the moonlit petals. They saw things, just illusionary things, everyone else agreed.

It may be because of it, and how generally passive life was in there, that no one paid attention to the occasional disappearance of troublesome people. Either the drunkards that didn’t even work, some criminals, adulterous spouses or shady people, and so on, it just happened that a new day started, and no one saw them ever again. No questions asked, following the very repeated old saying of some things are not worth asking about.

But another saying goes like this there is always a curious one, and in this case, one of the only two mysteries available, there was a person that never quite stopped thinking about such disappearances. Richard, or Little Ricky was a smart child, even if some other kids would call him just a smartass, but no one could deny how quick his mind was, how good his sense of smell was, and how his curiosity could get him both fun times and troubled ones. He frequently got his nose in other people’s business when an idea got into his mind and refused to disappear.

He, of course, was one of the many people marveled at Lady Scarlet’s garden, and also her person. What about her family?, the place she lived in?, why she lived alone?, why was she called “Lady”?, the flowers were always that pretty?, this and many more were repeated, and the most he got was she owns that house, and her family before her, stop asking so much kid, and then silence.



He always tried to find some time away from school and his friends playing sessions, to just stare at the garden, from outside, a sign of respect?, maybe, but there was also an unnamed apprehension, he just didn’t dare. It was that way until Lady Scarlet, garden shovel in hand, noticed him and asked him to come inside. He doubted, but ended up entering the place.

All in all, that was a good afternoon, the Lady was as nice as people told, and her pastries and tea were as good as her flowers beautiful, but he couldn’t shake a strange feeling from him. Before going away he asked if he could take a rose for his mom, and the Lady said yes. He got close to the patch that contained the brightest red ones, and before cutting one with the scissors, he sniffed it.

For an instant he felt just the rose perfume, but right after, a putrid smell invaded his nostrils, making him want to puke. It’s the fertilizer, maybe it's too strong…?, said Lady Scarlet, but Ricky knew the smell of fertilizer, the smell of compost, they smelled like shit, like rotten veggies and dirty stables, but this… this made him remember the deer carcass he once found with his friends, half-eaten and full of maggots.

He had excused himself and went away without taking the rose, and since that day he couldn’t get out of his head the idea that the kind old lady of the garden had some terrible secret. How to discover it?, how to prove it?, over and over again he repeated this, even in the middle of playing, something that made the thrown ball hit him in the head several times. And maybe that made him remember something: one of the nights that the guards were dismissed was approaching, so he could stealthy enter and get some samples.

The right hour came, it was the first new moon off the season. Dressed in black clothings Ricky was climbing the wall thanks to a rope and hook he borrowed from a friend on the condition that you tell me EVERYTHING, according to his words. It was difficult since he wasn’t all that strong, but he managed to get in. While walking towards the roses, he heard some shuffling from inside the house. I’m not a cat he thought, I’m not gonna get killed. After resisting puking, he managed to get some earth and some petals, and got close to one of the windows, at a height that barely let him watch anything.

Inside, Lady Scarlet was speaking with someone, sitting in a chair after pouring the other person some tea apparently. It was Hugh, the new money-lender that came to town a couple of months ago. Ricky remembered that some people complained about some swindling and blackmailing against him, but no one could prove anything. Was the Lady in monetary trouble?, she didn’t seem to work on anything else or have any kind of rent, and more of the flowers that left the garden were gift, not sales.

The man took a sip, Lady Scarlet smiled while saying something. A minute or so passed, and right when Mr. Hugh seemed to get mad by something, screaming you can’t prove that!, he fell down to the floor, he seemed unconscious. Ricky held back a gasp, and kept watching how the old lady easily grabbed the much larger man and dragged him back into the house. Should I stay?, should I go?, he debated, I’m not a cat! he decided.



He went around the house, keeping himself in the shadows. The backyard he saw was more forest than town, and the very low light made every shadowy crevice seem like an abyss. Lady Scarlet had dragged the man towards a basement whose entrance was concealed by some bushes. Trying to get inside was too much, even he knew that, but while thinking what to do, and after some clinging, more clattering and a humming, the old lady came out, holding a small barrel.

The door to the basement seemed closed, but a smell followed the lady in her path towards the flowers. The same putrid smell he felt the other day. There was almost no moonlight that night, and maybe because of that he noticed the soft red hue that seemed to be inside the barrel, trying to escape. The Lady opened the lid, and started to pour the bright liquid on the earth beneath the flowers. The smell was stronger now, and he almost puked. The liquid seemed to pulse above the garden’s earth, dimmer and dimmer each time, until it was seemingly absorbed.

One second passed. And now every flower whose roots were touched by that liquid started to shine in a way befitting the name of the Lady, scarlet, like a polished ruby, like boiling blood, like the lights the drunkards and insomniacs said they saw. Ricky just stood there, silent except for his rapidly beating heart. Lady Scarlet stood there for a while, looking up at the sky and the darkened moon, after which she said what a beautiful night before going back inside her house.

Little Ricky didn’t know how much time passed before he decided to come out from his hiding place and go home, but by the time his parents called him for breakfast, he hadn’t said a word, even to himself. Days went by, with him quietly ignoring the questions from his friend and avoiding the famous garden. Mr. Hugh was never seen again.

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