A Library of Short Stories

The Coven of the Secret Garden

Wrote this for a Creative Writing project early in the semester and not during the pandemic that is going on at the time of this being posted. I hope everyone enjoys and is staying very safe!

A warm breeze skimmed my pale, seashell white skin. The ground was moist and soft, the feeling of dirt caused my fingers to tingle. Grass that seemed nearly translucent in the sun grew around me. The sun warmed my gelid skin. Birds sang softly off in the distance. Their wings making light flapping noises. My breath was slow and steady. I was rather calm, which made my body feel hypersensitive to the world. My body was heavy and my spirit was light. I slowly move my body to sit up. My movements felt like that of a stone giant awaking from a thousand-year slumber. Time passed before I was ready to open my eyes. I opened my eyes slowly and was filled with colors.

The first thing my eyes see is green. Artichoke green, fern green, forest green, emerald green, laurel green, and so many other shades of greens flood me. It was such a grand and vibrant color. The meanings the color holds range from luck to life, harmony to growth, fertility to wealth. The color decorated the earth. Plants. That's what I was looking at. A silent life that blessed the earth. My rough hands touch the leaves of a plant carefully, entranced by its beauty. It was tough yet smooth. The scent of dirt and plant life filled my nose. I loved the plants that surrounded me.

I had no idea how long I had been here. This place was also unfamiliar. This place seemed to be a large and lavish garden. I walked around, looking at everything. My feet were bare and vines seemed to wrap around them. My feet were cold even though they were in the heat of the sun for so long. Soft dirt and moist grass support my heavy feet. Trees and large plants grow high above me. I felt like I was a small beetle wandering through nature. I stopped to see five plants in front of me. They were surrounding a fountain. The fountain was carved from Livadia black marble, polished with cracks filled with a dark sugilite. At the center of the fountain was a gorgeous woman carved of the same material. She had to be a Greek woman, due to her outfit design. I touch her fountain with interest. It was cool to the touch and had me entranced. It had turned to night without me noticing. She, the carving, looked to be holding the moon in her hands.

The flowers around the fountain seemed to sing her praises. Gardenias, lotuses growing in a small body of water, lantanas, tiger lilies, and dark gray roses. The ones that called to me were the dark gray roses. They sang of guilt, tragedy, unrequited feelings, and feeling lost. Sitting down in front of them, I could hear their song clearly. Tears fell from my face like the beginning of rain. I was listening to my song. My past was blooming before me through these flowers. Vines wrapped around my limbs, thorns piercing my skin. Plants, something always overlooked, told secrets and stories. Only those who paid attention to them could hear these symphonies and long tales.

Standing up became suddenly easier. Thorns held me tightly. I found out about myself here. I moved to the tiger lillies. They sang of fire, burning passion, wrath, flying, and escapism. They knew me, but not all of me. They accepted me. These were the flowers of someone who stayed with me through the struggles. We were friends, best friends. A first friend who could hold me when I felt like screaming. The flowers also spoke of anger and an almost uncontrollable temper. I helped to soothe that temper. Where is this friend now?

Lantanas, golden flowers that burst with color in the day, was next to the tiger lillies. They whispered of the future, happiness, silent guilt, and large responsibility. These flowers saw what was to come next, but could only give vague answers. The weight of going down a good path plagued them. One may die, but another one may die. All of this decided by one who can see both paths. Guilt over knowing what will come writes these tragedies. They loved the moon, even though they were the moon's opposite. How much do they really know?

Gardenias wave in silence but somehow told their story. Stories of worry, cold, heavy responsibilities, past injuries, and silent love. These flowers have to carry the weight of their kind on their shoulders. Injuries of old ache and scream in pain. Unhealable wounds put them at risk. They are also in love and become happier. Friends they hold close and whisper secrets to. The white flowers flew across the skies when it was safe and showed the beauty of the world. Do they know how to communicate these feelings?

Lotuses, bright and open, tell of joy, love, anxiety, burden, and deep waters. These flowers have had to make dangerous and large decisions. Rule over their kind or help save a world. They fear that they are being a burden on others and struggle to fully explain this. They are joyful and do their best to lighten up a room. Love flows from them to the others around them. Why do such joyous flowers have to be held down by anxieties?

I turn back to the fountain to see dark irises growing around it. A woman was standing next to me. She looked similar to the woman in the statue, but the statue wasn't of her. She had white eyes, smelled of irises, haired flowed like the night sky, and skin dark as coffee beans. She held her hand out to me. This was one of my saviors. She brought all of these flowers together. I take her soft yet calloused hand. She helps me stand and guides me out of the garden. This was the garden that gave us our new destinies. The Coven of the Secret Garden was born here.