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The Garden

Those garden walls had saved me, I can definitively say that. For that I am grateful. I remember the first time I saw the inside of those gates, so coveted by those on the other end. The floor was made of white marble, crumbling from years and years of traffic; plants growing out from the cracks, not quite able to reach the sun. It was warm and welcoming, a feeling I had long since thought to had of lost. The pillars stood above five times my height.

I spent my first few hours just inside the amazing sanctuary, stunned by the sight and sensation wrapping itself around me. I had heard stories, and even seen it, perched atop its silver throne, and yet had never truly believed it to be real. At least not in the sense you or I might consider such. While I had all of my perils washed away in the safety of that moment, I now lament at the fact that I was the one chosen to inherit this paradise, and me alone. Those on the outside are never to experience the tranquility that I have had in my many years occupying my abode. You see, I know all there is to know about this place. I have graced every monument, every stone. I have spent countless days wasting away underneath an oak or beside a birchbark. I have taken this garden's very dimensions to memory. And yet, I still cannot say why I am here. When I first touched the barriers that surrounded me, I felt an urge to keep myself attached; I could not bring myself to let go. So, compelled by some force (divine or supernatural, it makes no difference), I followed the circumference. By the time I reached the other end of the doors, the sun had set and that foul monstrosity of the night reared its head, like a steed trampling it's way into the slaughter.

I looked up into the sky, and noticed I could see stars. Millions more than I had ever gazed upon before. The beauteous sight again sent me into shock and I stood there, bewildered. Again, I felt safe. I knew that no creatures of shadow could come to reek their vengeance upon me. That night I did not sleep, but instead looked out onto the horizon. As the sun arose behind me, I decided to explore the new land that I was soon to discover I would be forced to call my own. I made my way to the center of the garden in no time. There I found a grand fountain, spewing forth liquids so clear they were hardly visible. It was then I noticed I had no thirst, or even hunger, despite not having had a meal the day prior. This perception soon was erased from my mind, however, and I returned to my inspection. The west was filled with trees of all sizes and species. No matter what season, those trees have never shed their leaves, nor have they ever grown even an inch. They stay, stagnant, just like the rest of this place, stuck in time. To the north was the gate, with its worn out path and mysterious echoings of an age long passed. The east was a pool of the most pristine water, shallow enough to wade in but deep enough to provide itself as an adequate facility. The south was barren. It was obvious since the moment I saw it that something had lived here before, but all that remained now was dust. It seems fitting that the wasteland should be opposite the entrance into this grand temple, but in the end, even a place as pure as this cannot sustain the pressure the outside world must barrage it with.

I know that my days here left are numbered, and I shall be forced out into a land of desolation and despair. Soon someone new will inherit this place from me, and I only hope that they do not take it for granted as I'm sure thousands have done before me. I fear I am never to experience peace again, but I want it so that I need not bear the pain of the world once more.