Mind Garden

1

His hand gently strokes the cold tile of the bathroom, eyes blinking slowly. The gray in them has dulled and looks like the dark corpses buried near his home.

Daniel has always cherished the view of the cemetery shown from his bedroom window; it's elegant and eerie.

At midnight, he often opens his window and whispers out to the spirits. He whispers everything he can.

A loud voice rings down the hall and into the bathroom.

"Daniel!"

He scurries out of the room to find his mother. She is in the kitchen wielding a knife and celery.

"It's your night to help with supper," she says as she sets the knife and celery down on the cutting board for him.

Daniel's mother, Olivia Rhodes, is a short, little woman who supports the family of seven. She's often running about to help the youngest children, but can occasionally be found watching tv with her husband.

Daniel takes the knife in his hand, violently hacks off the ends, and then starts at the center.

"Gentle!" his mother scolds.

Daniel nods simply. He has no intention of using the knife gently, especially with something he won't get in trouble for stabbing.

He finishes chopping up the vegetables and throws them into the pot sitting on top of the stove.

"Thank you."

Daniel nods again. He trails back down the hall to the bathroom. The cold is comforting there. He needs to spend five more minutes there before he can head to his own room. In five minutes, he'll be cold enough to go in.

After five minutes, he runs a hand over his arm. There are goose bumps coating every inch, the tiny hairs on edge.

Daniel opens his bedroom door, steps inside, and gently closes it. The open window blows the curtains about.

His light blue walls are dotted with drawings of flowers and plants. A sign is on his ceiling labeled 'GARDEN' in all capitals.

The drawings were nicely drawn, messily colored, and taped to the wall.

A soft voice suddenly meets his ears.

"Hello, Danny," it sings faintly.

"Hello, Ryn," He whispers as a small smile creeping to his lips.

Daniel moves to his desk, taking a seat. His desk is cluttered with paper, pencils, all sorts of paints and markers. Nothing is orderly here.

His hand grabs a sheet of paper and a pencil. He moves the pencil quickly across the white paper. It scratches graphite into a pattern closely resembling a tree. The pencil drops from his hand and is replaced with a paintbrush. The hairs are all splayed in different directions as they are dipped into water and then glided over a block of green water color paint.

Daniel picks up the still wet piece and tapes it to the back of his door.

He admires the dripping wet paint of his artwork. It will soon look like most of the others dabbling his walls.

"Daniel, dinner!" The door is thrust open by his older sister, Charlie.

He quickly ushers her out and slams the door behind him.

The slam echoes throughout the home and he hears the window in his room slam shut by itself.

The lights in the house dim.