Mind Garden

6

A few days pass in his home in silence, his mother barely uttering words to him. His siblings have found every possible way to avoid him. He doesn't mind, just enjoys the time he has to draw his flowers.

Perfectly drawn flowers, etched with color, have started to build up. His walls can barely be seen beneath the papers, tacks, tape, and glue.

Daniel sets down his pencil and backs away from his desk. His eyes are heavy and he doesn't understand why. He stumbles to the door, down the hall, and to the kitchen. His siblings are at the table, scribbling away in coloring books. His nose scrunched up at their lack of coloring skills.

Ellen looks up from her crayon-jumbled mess and frowns.

"Why haven't you been at dinner?" she questions, her little kid eyes wide and worried. He shrugs. His indifferences towards his siblings makes them more uncomfortable than usual.

"I'll be damned if I know," he mutters. Quinn's head jerks up to stare at him in horror.

"You swore! Mum's gonna be mad!" he shouts, pointing an accusing finger in Daniel's direction.

"Oh, shut up." Daniel whirls around on his foot and meanders back to his cave. It's much, much safer to be there.

Alone in his room, he finds the comfort of his friends whispering to him in alarmed voices. They wind their way through his cranium and out his mouth. He repeats their words back to them. Back to the open, empty air.

~

Daniel huffs as he drags himself inside the house, having just gotten home from his first therapy session after meeting the psychiatrist. They weren't going back, according to his mum, who though the whole thing was ludicrous.

His mother had insisted that Daniel was a very outgoing, smart boy. Nothing proved her point. His grades weren't good enough, and he talked so little his throat often burned to scream and cry out and let some noise escape.

Daniel had answered all the questions on a piece of paper instead of vocally, and the therapist had accepted it.

The thing was, his Mum read his answers and instantly became pissed. Her eyes narrowed and lips tightened into a thin line. As soon as they left the place his mum told him they weren't going back. It was pointless.

Daniel goes to his room to be rid of his feelings. His hands grasp around in the dark for the light switch, but instead hits against a glass. It cascades to the ground, shards of glass sprawling about the hardwood floor. He stares down at the mess for a long moment before disregarding it and heading to his desk.

He starts to sketch a new flower. It's petals are long and floppy, almost like that of an elephant's ears. He scribbles in some blues and greens and makes more. He tacks each one to his wall.

By now, around the time the sun has fallen to the edge of land to reflect the clouds, he has taken to staring around his room.

The walls are full. The papers are overlapping and crossing over each other and upside down. Nothing is neat.

Daniel slips into his bed and falls asleep to the sound of his curtains rustling against the window. His friends, in hushed whispers, threaten the breeze entering.

~

It's 3:00 a.m.

Daniel's friends let him sleep past midnight, but he awakes to the sound of papers falling off the walls. This infuriates him.

Daniel leaps to his feet, marching over to the desk. He rips open the cabinet door below it and grabs the modpodge. He slathers it messily over the papers and wall, splattering in some places and missing others. The places where the paint has splattered drips in little rivulets of perishing, transparent blood.

Daniel tosses the open bottle of modpodge on the ground, the lid still sitting on the desk. The sticky liquid pours onto his floor and onto the glass shards, mingling, mixing, and gliding along.

Daniel, now content that his works will stay put, crawls under his blankets once more.

He dreams of a forest.