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Writer's pictureKyle

The Garden

My garden is a complex maze with twists and turns and dead ends, but if you can solve the maze, you may witness the center piece: a marbled statue of a singular figure. Stepping to the entrance you see the garden’s hedge stretch impossibly high into the sky and block everything from your view. As you cross the threshold into the garden you are introduced to the first respite giving you a place to stop, nourish your body, and ponder on the journey you have taken.

 

You carry with you a backpack weighed with tools and books. Searching through the bag you find, a radio that hisses static but if you listen closely there seems to be a message being washed away, shoes with tired worn-out soles, and a flashlight that works occasionally. The last thing in your bag is a bottle, the contents of which seem random and will change without warning; sometimes smelling sweet other times it reeks and makes your stomach roil. Some sips from the bottle clears your head and makes your progress swift, other times the liquid brings a heavy haze over your mind leaving you lost in the dark.Taking a turn the maze is filled with beautiful wildflowers and large trees of fruit. It is home to rabbits, squirrels, and cats running past you and diving into hidden tunnels and burrows. The sun is warm on your face and centers you in the passing moment.


You take your first steps on these paths that appear worn from constant travel. The path evolves with each step turning from the lush grass that feel pleasant on your naked feet to areas made of gravel and rock that cuts and bites at you.While you continue and commit your way into this first act of the maze you see clusters of tall weeds, poisonous ivies, and dark corridors far removed from the earlier path. The large blooming weeds obscure and choke many of the plants robbing them of their color, leaving them limp and lifeless. You notice sprawling vines tempting you with voluptuous fruits only to be tangled in the thorned web as they climb higher disfiguring the trees around them. There is a bright flash of lightning through the sky as a rolling fog comes over the walls and blocks everything from view. Large roots break from the earth littering the aged path threatening to bring you down to the ground. You can hear distant children crying, but you cannot pinpoint where from. It is a struggle, but you find a treacherous route that can save you from this.


You find the center piece to this maze a child statue fractured with missing pieces and water that doesn’t spring from the top as designed but seeps through cracks and poorly fixed fissures. The child sits crossed legged dressed in a simple robe, the hands resting in its lap with the eyes shown closed a solemn expression on the face.



Inspired By: The Search by NF

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