Short Story

hada

Would love for anyone to comment on this, as always, anything will do. This is only half of the story, so let me know if it's worth typing the rest of it up.




A Garden So Brilliant

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The garden stood still. A brisk Winter breeze swirled indifferentely through the cold old gate, over the stoney frost topped grass and over the hardened flesh of the single oak that towered in the garden. A maze of mist surrounded my footsteps, each leaving a distinctive mark upon the milton dew. I gazed further down the landscape of my surroundings only to notice how the sharpened ice upon the small pond had a rather forebiding appeal to it. And when I say 'appeal', I mean it. I continued to walk, almost guided by the transparent fog emitted each time I were to breath out. I shuffled my coat as a bird it's feather, trying to distill the disdainful cold from my surroundings, but to no avail. Finally, after what I could only say was a rather brisk walk, I reached my destination. I bent, cautiously on my knees. Close now to the rock like soil, I peeled my furry gloves, delved into my pockets in search of my most revered contents. My fingers felt clumsy in their numb state, as I cursed to myself once more, having dropped the delicate belongings repetatedly into the edgy grass. Eventualy, with enough patience, I successfully cupped the minute characters in my purple hands. I then, finding a pre-prepaired softened lump of soil, using my hands, ushered back the grainy soil, enjoying the warmth underneath it. I then, with my usual precarious nature, lightly sprinkled each individual unit in it's place. I once more stood up, having leniently padded the browny soil upon my little secrets. I smiled quitely. And as I took one last glance back at the garden in it's most beautiful dormant state, I closed the door firmly, once more being enveloped by the hot, recycled air of the inside.

The first budding flower dared to stare above the now softening soil. Cheeky as ever, I could clearly hear the cackling crows upon the brightening trees. The twinkle of birds, the dashing of ivy as it curled and bent upwards, the lush foliage in it's infantile stage. Spring had come. Again, I found myself walking rather briskly amongst my awakening surroundings. I looked right, only to see the first buds upon the trees. The grass, despite being sticky with early morning dew, was far easier on the toes that Winter had been. Nit let this not disillusion you, Winter had certainly not been banished, as with a reassuring whisper, I heard it's speak in the curling wind. Again, a new sound beckoned upon me, as the first of the migratory birds swooshed above my head. Past the oak once more, still as silent as ever, resilient in it's ways. And finally, once more to my secret plot. I had successfully concealed it's presence to all family members, but I knew it would not be too long now before they would see the already sprouting roots. It had grown well in the time I had planted it to rest, the soil now had even broken away, revealing it's petite, but growing stature. I hoped it would be fully sprouted by Summer, for the children would love it. I walked once more back to the inside domain, talking one last whisp of the Spring time haze.
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funky penguin

I like it. There is some lovely vivid imagery in there. Well done.