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Dark & Bitter – The Garden

03 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by Katherine B in Uncategorized

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Tags

bitter, death, depression, fiction, haunted, mental illness

This story was inspired by a poem written by a friend of mine. I’m including it here with his permission, although he has asked to remain anonymous.

The Garden
I plant my garden in the cold of the winter
Seeds of depression is what I’ve sown
You know there’s nothing left to live for
Since you’ve gone, sadness is all I’ve known

C’mon and grow
Little seeds grow
Take me down and torture me
Swallow me then slowly let me go
C’mon little seeds grow

_______________________________________

She left him in the spring. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been as bad if she had left in the fall or winter. But she left in the spring and his heart died. All the things that brought him joy turned to ashes. Especially his garden.

He tried. He planted his seeds, watched as they sprouted and then died. What little hope he held of finding something to sustain him until his heart healed died with them. He was barren as that plot of land.

He had nightmares every night. He would wake gasping and screaming, certain his heart would explode out of his chest. On some nights, he would wake from those horrific dreams to find one or two small dark seeds on her pillow. The first time, he wasn’t sure what they were and threw them away. The gardener in him recognized them the second time. He carefully scooped them into an envelope. They multiplied quickly.

The neighbors talked. They knew she had left, although they didn’t know why. They saw his spectacular garden lay abandoned. They heard his screams in the middle of the night. They talked, but the talk faded as spring turned to summer and then summer to fall.

No one thought it odd when they saw him working in the garden that fall. They were sure he was simply preparing the empty beds for winter and the next year would see a return to the abundance of produce he had grown in years past.

No one saw him on his knees in the rows the next new moon, carefully planting small, dark seeds in the dark of the night. No one saw the sad smile as he stood surveying the neat hills just before dawn.

They saw the black vines that began emerging from the soil a few days later. They assumed he had tried to plant a winter crop and it had failed just as spectacularly as his efforts the previous springs’ had. They shook their heads and discussed how sad it was that he seemed to have lost his green thumb at the same time he had lost his love.

He watched the black vines growing and felt a strange kind of peace. They grew and he attended to tidying his life. Every night, before he went to bed, he walked out to his garden and carefully tended the rows. The vines thickened and seemed to speak to him in the silence of the night.

It had been three months since he had planted those small, dark seeds. He stood, leaning on the hoe he had used to clear the snow from the rows. The vines were whispering again, using her beautiful clear voice. He listened, nodding here and there. He stood up straight, the hoe falling to the ground. He was still for just a moment before reaching for his hat, bending to place it carefully next to the tool. There was a smile on his face as he straightened. He walked to the center of the garden, careful to not step on the vines that were stirring, reaching out to touch his feet and lower legs as he passed them.

He stopped. A final glance at the dark sky, he carefully lowered himself to the cold ground. He lay on his back, crossing his arms over his chest. The plants reached out to him, tendrils and leaves softly caressing him before slowly extending to reach over his body. They took their time enfolding him, wrapping him securely in their darkness. Roots stirred beneath the surface, creating a void that he began to sink into. He did not struggle. His eyes were closed, and he whispered her name as he was swallowed.

Some Bitter – Dark

04 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by Katherine B in Story

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Tags

bitter, story

 

Before you read this story, be aware. It’s not fluff and light. It’s dark and sad and may contain triggers for suicide. Also, I promise, I am fine. Not thinking of hurting myself, just because I’m writing about suicide. If you are having thoughts of suicide, please talk to someone, call the Suicide Prevention Hotline, 1-800-273-8255. Don’t leave, you are needed.

And now for Dark. This is copyrighted, and may not be used without my permission. Steal my work and I’ll feed you to the grizzly bears in my backyard.

The baby was crying again. She rolled over to look at the clock, the only light in the room. 3:17. Her head turned to look at her husband, motionless beside her. Of course he wasn’t going to hear the whimpers, he’d drunk himself into a stupor again. She sighed and pushed the covers back.

Walking through the dark house, hearing the hum of the refrigerator, the light of the microwave flashing. The power must have gone out again, she thought to herself. Reaching the baby’s room, frowning to find the door closed. She turned the handle, expecting to see the crib highlighted in the soft glow of the nightlight.

More darkness greeted her, and silence. Perhaps the baby had woken when the power flickered and then gone back to sleep? She shuffled carefully to the crib, not wanting to make any noise. A thin blade of light fell through the curtains. She reached the crib, hands gently patting for the sleeping infant. She’d covered the interior twice before it registered that the baby was gone. Gone.

Reality intruded, the fog of sleep and dreams drawing away abruptly. The baby was gone. Forever gone. She sank to the floor, screams strangling her, unable to breath.

After a time she struggled back to her feet. She slowly made her way back to her own room, the sleeping form of her drunken husband still unmoving. She passed the bed, closing the bathroom door behind her silently. There was no need for a light, the bottle was right by the sink where her husband had left it. It was full of pills. She took them two at a time, not stopping until the bottle was empty. She carefully put the lid back on, returning the bottle to it’s original position.

Carefully sliding back into bed, she could already feel the first tendrils of sleep and calm snake across her mind. There would be no more waking to the cries of her missing child. No more waking every again, just dark.

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Recent Posts

  • Some Dirty -Delicious
  • Some Filth – Midnight Intruder
  • Some Filthy – Disappointment
  • Dark & Bitter – The Garden
  • Some Quick – His Sweet Little Whore

Recent Comments

Katherine B on Some Dirty -Delicious…
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David on Some Filthy – Disap…
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