Garden

[Note: this is an exerpt from the NaNoWriMo novel from November 2008. This scene is from Act II.]

Alex stopped peeking around trees and running ahead to peer around the turns of the path after a few hours. He gave up squinting down the hill for a glimpse of blonde hair or pink sundress. He was alone. Heather was far away by now, and once that truth soaked in he felt more solitary and miserable than he could ever remember feeling. The sun waxed piercingly bluish-yellow but brought no warmth. Alex stared at his feet as he walked, trying not to think about the dwindling water bottle.

“I will find you,” he whispered. “I will find all of you.”

The path curved and climbed and entered a flattened area, a surprise plateau in the middle of the mountain. The rocks and scrubby weeds disappeared gradually and were replaced with healthy tall trees and deep emerald, neatly maintained grass. There were landscaped flower beds overflowing with pansies and irises and daisies, even though it should have been too cold for them. It was a perfect garden out of nowhere. Alex had not expected to reach the castle grounds so quickly, and looked around eagerly for the gates.

He set into the garden with curiosity and renewed hope. He felt some of the weight of worry dissolve away into the air. For a minute he even forgot about the people he had lost. There was no sign of a castle or any building. Something in there smelled wonderful. Alex wandered slowly, seeking out the source of the aroma, venturing deeply into the grounds and allowing the lushness to envelop him. He sat on the edge of a stone pond and watched gaping orange and white goldfish slowly swim figure eights close to the surface, dreamily. He couldn’t be faulted for wanting to rest for a few minutes, he thought. The fragrance was almost overwhelming near the pond. It smelled of apples and honey and lilac and strawberry shampoo and every time he inhaled, he felt tingly down to his fingertips. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t quite grasp it at the moment. He rose and tiptoed around and around the pond trying to find the source of the perfume, and it seemed to get stronger as he walked.

Alex found a bush brimming with pink honeysuckle on one side of the pond. His heart beat fast with excitement when he got nearer to them. His head ached with dizziness and hunger, and something nagged at the edges of his attention, but he brushed the discomforts aside. He cradled one of the blossoms in his hand and his stomach growled and mouth watered. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a voice say that you shouldn’t eat strange plants outside, especially strange plants in strange worlds, but it was too late to listen because one of the petals was already in his mouth. It didn’t look like much; it was just a tiny curved thing no thicker than a piece of paper. But as he chewed it grew in his mouth and it was like eating a plum. It was succulent and sweet and more refreshing than water. He ate each petal one by one, hungrily, trying to savor each bite at first but ending up pushing them greedily and almost choking. He finished all the petals and felt full and content, better than he had felt in days.

He wanted to lie down in the thick grass and take a nap. He vaguely remembered that there was something important that he needed to do first, but maybe it could wait until afterward. Thinking would be so much clearer after a rest, he imagined. The rich aroma surrounded him and made him foggy. He stared at what was left of the blossom in his palm, the center of the flower, and wondered if it was edible. It twitched in his hand and he watched in disgust as a black worm wriggled out. He tossed it into the grass with a shudder, and then swayed drunkenly on his feet. He looked up, and the garden shimmered and faded and rocked along with him. He backed away from the flower bush unsteadily, and as the perfume decreased in power, it occurred to him in a flash of insight where he had experienced the fragrance before.

Alex ran, seized with an urgent panic at what he had forgotten, but his legs were leaden and the surrounding land did not move with him. His vision was snowy static on a television. He stumbled, struck his head hard on the ground, and fell through a thin spot in the sod into a black hole.