Beneath the Fountain

4. The Fountain

I scamper down the paths of the garden, everything seeming much different in the dark. I don't recognize any of the silhouettes of the plants I pass, but I trudge on anyways. I must get away from that horrid man. The garden that I usually know by heart is now a maze, each corner seeming so dark and scary. However, my body seems to know where it is going even though my mind couldn't be more lost.

The only positive thing about this is that if I don't even know my way, how is anyone else going to find me to take me back to that horrid man?

I continue to run even when I start to heave. It feels like I can't breathe due to my corset and continuing to run isn't probably the best idea, but I have no other choice. I don't stop until I finally reach my destination.

I don't really know how I got here, or why I came. This area of the garden was almost forgotten; it was just a distant memory in my head. But still, I don't allow myself to cry until I arrive here; until I am sure that no one else will see me cry, and if they are looking for me, it will take them a long time to find me back in the corner of this garden; especially since it is so overgrown that it looks as if it belongs to the forest that surrounds our family's property.

My dress tore on roots during my venture out here without my noticing, but I honestly don't care how ragged it looks. I hated this dress since the moment I saw it, and the events that occurred in it make me loath it even more. The fact that it is ruined actually brings me a small amount of joy, but it is the only speck of happiness I feel at the moment, and if I do marry Mr. Daniels, I doubt I will ever have much more.

I walk silently against the cobblestone path careful not to trip on an overgrown root or a vine of thorns. The moon is dim tonight. Only a small sliver is in the sky, and the stars seem smaller than usual, distant and dim. Still, even with the little light I have, I am still able to make out the silhouettes of the plants and foliage of the garden, and the one of the old stone fountain that sits in it's own little separated world. I gasp as I see it's magnificence even in the moonlight. It's huge; so huge that it could be a small, raised pond with water darker than the sky surrounded by a smooth stone bowl. In the center of it, a tall stone tower stands with bowls placed periodically on it. As the tower gets higher, the bowls get smaller in diameter so that they overflow on to the next level, but the most miraculous thing about the fountain is that it is somehow still working although no one has tried to maintain it. The water glistens in the celestial light as it pours down, making a slight trickling sound.

As I walk towards the monument, memories of being a little girl out here with my father start to dance around my mind. They come in fast, and leave just as swift. Little images play at my memory and disappear as if they are playing a game of hide and seek. But finally, I find one, grasp it, and I don't let it go. I see the scene playing out before me in blurs. After a moment of struggle, I finally get it to focus on the memory and suddenly I'm a carefree little girl again.

The sun is beating down on my wild curls as I run barefooted to the marvelous fountain. My father is chasing me, laughing while in pursuit. The garden is full with different types of flowers of pinks; blues; yellows; and purples, my favorite color. The bushes are cut neatly and not overgrown in the path. There isn't a stray plant or weed in sight. A path leads to this side of the garden, one that I've never been to before.

When father catches up to me, he scoops me up in his arms and lets out a roar like a monster. I scream my tiny scream, laughing all the while. "The monster has me!" I say between giggles.

"But I'm not a monster," father says, his eyes the color of the sky. His dark blonde hair is pulled into a short tail on his neck.

"I know, silly," I giggle. "You're my father."