In Parched Gardens: Book 1

Chapter 7: Don't Fall Asleep On Me

Walking home after an evening shift, Fin sauntered beneath the streetlights, east toward Hudson Street. It hadn't been an eventful shift, and Fin appreciated that. As he walked, he occasionally stopped to peer up through one of the many trees that lined 6th Street at one of the yellow glazed streetlights above. He had always found it fascinating the way the spindly branches of the trees seemed to curve and bend around the light, like some ligneous vortex haloed by soft light in the night. Breathing in deeply, he smelled the pavement of the road beneath his feet, still hot from the summer sun. And he heard the playfulness of crickets around him, frogs occasionally croaking raspily, and night birds humming, as if singing lullabies to a blackening twilight.

Walking at night was one of his favorite things to do, especially in calm, quiet neighborhoods like these. He could get lost in his thoughts, or think of nothing and be entertained by the walk itself. It was best in the summer, when the nights were warm and comfortable and the sounds of nature around him, almost like white noise, relaxed him. It was something he had done most of his life, once he was old enough to be allowed to go out at night. Not being able to experience the same calming walks was one of the things that upset him most about moving to the city. It was one of the things that he looked forward to the most when moving back to Allbrook.

Passing the cemetery now, Fin thought of Emily. Looking out across the rolling dark rows to his left, he felt like he could almost see it. On either side of the light granite stone an angel bent and rested, heads almost touching over the middle. Their faces were not crippled by despair, nor were they smiling as if joyful ferriers to some paradisic beyond. They were drooped slightly, as if to comfort all those there: the living and the dead. Fin imagined the flowers there. They were probably dead now, withered as the angels, yet he imagined them nonetheless. In burnt orange and golden yellow, their scent called out to butterflies through the dark. It had been a long time since Fin had stood there, staring at the angels and the chiseled stone. It had been a long time since it had called to him. But he was happy that the butterflies visited. Emily would like their company.

On the other side of the cemetery now, Fin strained his eyes between the homes to see if he could see any part of his house up and on the left. If it weren't for the structures and the many trees and the night, it would be easy to see from here. But he couldn't glimpse it. Nonetheless, within moments, he turned the corner onto Hudson Street and then he could see it, straight ahead at the end of the road.

Walking up to the house, he studied its dark silhouette. There was almost no wind tonight, so Mrs. Richardson's chime did not sing to him. The branches of the great, red oak to his left and the thick coats of the spruce trees to his right stood starkly still. He noticed that the dining room's light was on through the room's windows at the front of the house. He smiled at that, thinking about how she would have felt about him leaving the light on during an entire shift. It didn't bother him though. It was nice to have a little light when he came back home. He never really liked walking into a completely dark house at night.

Walking up to the gate, he pushed its wrought iron hands open and started down the stone path to the porch. Taking the few steps up to the porch briskly, he walked onto the wooden boards there and they groaned slightly under his weight. Getting to the front door, he reached for his key and noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A large web had formed near the left corner of the porch. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but the darkness of the night and the soft light of the dining room spilling out onto the porch glistened against the gossamers in a way that exposed it. Quickly grabbing the broom he kept on the porch, he knocked down the empty web and swept off its filaments in the yard's grass. Returning to the porch, he took out his phone and turned on its flashlight and studied the area the web had been. He saw nothing there, but he made sure to check carefully in the cracks and crevices of the wood. Satisfied, he unlocked the front door, closed it quickly behind him, and locked it.