Gently, he pushed open the white gate taking a quick peek around before stepping foot into the garden. He closed the door behind him, but remained close to it, as though he wanted to make sure he was near an exit. A hummingbird zoomed past his shoulder as it made its way to a pitstop at a nearby flower. He was caught off guard for a second, and found himself adjusting the purple necktie he was wearing before taking a second look at the bird. The flower was the deepest shade of blue that David had ever seen in his life. For a moment, he was mesmerized by it and the bird, watching its wings flap so quickly that they disappeared in a green blur, feeding off of the world around it. He took a step closer to it, startling it and distracting it from its meal, forcing it to zoom away. He tried to run after it, but couldn't keep up with the speedy creature, who by default had an advantage over him because it was small and could fly. With a sigh, David let the bird go and looked around the rest of the garden.
He was unsure what to call his emotions as he walked around. Curious was definitely one. He was so drawn to the beauty, the smells, the way dew drops glistened in the slowly rising sun. Birds sang morning songs loudly, alarm clocks to the life around him. He was confused. The garden was unlike any he had ever seen. He was sure that most of the flowers could not be found in any gardening book. He was afraid. Afraid that if he were to touch one of these strange works of art, he might develop a rash from its possibly poisonus petals, or perhaps even have an allergic reaction. As he walked deeper into the garden, he began to feel a certain sense of discomfort. The uncertainty of what creatures might lay in its depths bothered him. Were there other people, wandering about it aimlessly as well? If so, where were they? But before he could delve too far deep into his fears and questions, a ray of sunlight would make its way past the brush and tickle his skin. He would forget and continue to trot around, leaving his footprints behind in the mud and the untrimmed grass.
The sun was now directly above his head, beating down unforgivingly. With it came heat, boiling the blood under his skin, forcing him to find shade under a large oak tree which was, unbeknownst to him, directly in the center of the garden. He sat down at the base of the tree, letting its leaves provide for him a shelter from the unbearable heat. Beneath him grew one sole dandelion. This was the first familiar flower he had seen since he had entered the place. He picked it up, recalling days in his youth where he would make a wish before blowing the white, fluffy seeds into the summer breeze. His mother used to yell at him for spreading the seeds of the flower that she referred to as a weed all over. She would yank them out the ground, roots and all in order to prevent them from spreading. But he would always find the ones she missed. And he would always make a wish before he blew them, as though they were birthday candles. They were his favorite flower. Simple. Basic. Plus, he would find dandelions everywhere he went. He did not think of them as weeds. He thought of them as a reminder of everything he was used to. For oldtimes sake, he closed his eyes and made a wish. Bringing the flower to his mouth, he inhaled deeply and blew out. The seeds did not leave the flower. He blew again, harder this time. Again, they did not budge. He remembered at times when he was younger that this would happen. He tried one more time, his effort again proving to be futile. This frustrated him. The heat shortened his temper and he got up in fury, stomping the flower into the mud below him. He punched the tree, but this only resulted in his own knuckles bleeding which frustrated him even more.
Realizing that he did not know where he was and still not wanting to step foot into the heat, he sat back down under the tree. It was then that he realized how tired he was, his body feeling heavier than it ever did. He was not that tired before, so this startled him. He tried to move his legs but found to his surprise that he couldn't. He gave in to what he thought was exhaustion and closed his eyes. Slumber quickly took over his body and David soon fell asleep.
The sun set. The moon rose. The moon set. And the sun rose again.
There was life in the garden. A green hummingbird zoomed from flower to flower, gathering nectar. Dew drops leftover from the mist of the night glistened on the leaves of each stem. And underneath the large oak tree in the center of the garden... Was one peculiar, purple flower. It resemebled a dandelion, but wasn't quite that. But then again, nothing in that garden was quite what it seemed. The sun would set. And it would rise. But not before the moon would rise, nor before the moon would set.
The breeze of the summer brushed lightly through the depths of the garden, taking with it, the purple seeds of the flower beneath the oak tree.
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