The Garden

1

      The atmosphere was thick with fog on a morning stained by a dreadful storm. Thunder shook the very world, and lightning ripped through the sky as clouds cried. The outside world was bleak and dreary, just as it had been for the past twelve long years.

      Nobody stirred, aside from the few people who had the displeasure of working in person, driving to their office jobs. Everything was silent. That was, until a particular strike of lightning smacked down right in the middle of the street, the thunder that followed echoing off the houses. Such a sound was loud and dreadful, startling awake anyone who still slept soundly. This included Ezra.

      Now, who is Ezra, you may find yourself wondering? Of course you're wondering such a thing; you'd tell me you're reading a book, after all. Well, Ezra Flux, as I'm sure you've already assumed, is our focus. He is a charming young man of twenty-eight years. Sadly, he is without companions. Ezra doesn't mind this, however, since he much prefers being by his lonesome. This is why the rainy days of his neighborhood never bothered him.

      Instead, he found a peculiar comfort in the solitude, the way the rain tapped against the windows like a gentle reminder of the world outside—a world he felt little need to engage with. As the storm raged on, Ezra lay cocooned in his blankets, the soft hum of his old radiator mingling with the rhythmic drumming of rain on the roof.

      Ezra was not always alone; there were memories, faint echoes of laughter and shared moments that danced in the corners of his mind. But those days felt like another lifetime, a chapter long closed. Now, he filled his time with books and painting, each stroke of the brush a way to capture the colors he saw in his mind, vibrant against the backdrop of gray that dominated his life.

      As he stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, yet another loud crack of thunder jolted him from his reverie. He rolled over, peering out the window. The fog was thick, obscuring everything beyond the glass and creating a scene that felt almost otherworldly. He loved this feeling of disconnection, the sense that time itself had paused in the chaos of the storm.

      With a soft sigh, Ezra decided it was time to emerge from his cotton cocoon upon his cushy mattress and reluctantly got out of bed. He treaded across the cold hardwood floors of the hallway with unnecessary caution, treating the path to the bathroom as though it were lined with booby traps. To be fair to Ezra, his house was so old that he feared there were loose nails everywhere, so caution wasn't too ridiculous.

      As Ezra made his way to the bathroom, the familiar creaks of the floorboards accompanied him, a symphony of sound that felt oddly comforting amidst the storm's chaos. He flicked on the light, squinting against the sudden brightness. The bathroom was small and cluttered, filled with mismatched toiletries and half-finished art projects that had slowly taken over every available surface. A half-finished painting of a garden, vibrant with colors, leaned against the wall, a stark contrast to the gray world outside.

      He splashed water on his face, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. The storm had a way of blurring time, and he'd lost track of how long he'd been awake. Staring at his reflection, he noticed the shadows under his eyes, a reminder of sleepless nights spent lost in thought or immersed in a book. It was easy to lose himself in stories, to forget the outside world, but today felt different. The storm seemed to breathe a sense of urgency into the air.

      Something felt... off.

      After brushing his teeth, he stepped back into the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet that had seen better days. He was about to head back to his sanctuary of blankets when a strange noise pierced the silence—a low, rhythmic tapping coming from the window.

      Curiosity piqued, Ezra approached the window and pulled back the heavy curtain. The fog was still thick outside, but he could just make out something shifting in the murky gray. He leaned closer, heart pounding, and blinked to clear his vision.

      But nothing was there.

      Ezra was now confused, his brow furrowing as he tried to explain away what he had heard. Perhaps it was just the rain, or perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him. Then he heard it again. He could've sworn it was a tapping on the window, but there was nothing there. That's when he noticed the sound actually seemed to echo off the very walls of his home. That was odd. Maybe the solitude really was getting to him after all.

      Ezra shook his head, trying to dispel the creeping unease. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that it was just the storm playing tricks on his mind. But the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows only amplified his thoughts, making the silence feel charged.

      As he moved about the kitchen, preparing tea, the strange noise returned—a persistent thudding that seemed to echo off the very walls of his home. It grew louder, more insistent, until he could no longer ignore it. He set the kettle down and glanced around, the unease creeping deeper into his chest.

      What could be making that noise?

      Determined to find the source, he ventured back into the living room, where his bookshelf stood against the wall, lined with books that had been his only companions for years. The thudding continued, rhythmic and pulsing, almost like a heartbeat.

      Ezra approached the bookshelf, the sound reverberating in his ears. As he brushed his fingers along the spines of the books, he felt an odd vibration, as if the very wood was alive. He pulled a few books off the shelf, one after another, but the noise only grew louder, almost demanding his attention.

      Then, as if by instinct, he pushed against the shelf, and it shifted slightly. Heart racing, he stepped back, staring in disbelief. Had he just imagined that?

      Curiosity surged within him. He leaned in and pressed against the shelf again, harder this time. To his astonishment, it swung open with a soft creak, revealing a narrow passage shrouded in darkness. The thudding noise stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to beckon him forward.

      Ezra hesitated, glancing back at the familiar comfort of his living room. The urge to retreat battled with the pull of the unknown. But that noise, that relentless thudding, had been so insistent. What lay beyond this hidden door?

      With a deep breath, he stepped through the opening, the candlelight flickering against the walls of the narrow corridor. The air was cool and musty, filled with the scent of old wood and something else—something elusive that sent shivers down his spine.

      He walked cautiously, the beam of the candle revealing cobwebs and dust that had accumulated over who knows how long. As he moved deeper into the passage, he noticed faint markings on the walls, symbols that seemed to pulse with a strange energy.

      The thudding sound returned, this time more like a heartbeat—a steady rhythm that resonated in his chest. It guided him, compelling him to continue until he reached a small door at the end of the corridor. The door was old, worn, and covered in intricate carvings that depicted scenes he couldn't quite understand.

      Ezra hesitated before reaching for the handle. The moment he touched it, the heartbeat intensified, almost as if the door was alive, waiting for him. With a deep breath, he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

      The door led outside... to a garden without rain.