Colors spiraled in a fluid display: bursting pinks, deep blues, burning orange and blood red; all bringing to life the purity of the garden. Jude ran through the flowers and past the exotic bushes, his grinning face brushing past the fragrances of the innocent foliage. The garden had no limits, and Jude played accordingly. Each flower held a microscopic secret, each insect ancient wisdom. There was no greater summer pastime than to run and simply be in the garden.
“Jude!”
Apart from when Mary was in the garden too, of course.
“Jude!” she called again, and he burrowed into the large elderberry bush, quickly pulling its leaves, berries, and flowers around him to conceal his body. “Stop hiding Jude!” she called out.
She wasn’t angry, at least, not entirely. She was only afraid he was going to scare him like he always did. Jude watched as she rounded a row of hydrangea bushes. She had on her summer clothes: jean shorts and a bright t-shirt. Her blond hair fell back behind her head, and her eyes narrowed in cautious anticipation of Jude’s sudden appearance.
“Jude!” she called out, much more angrily at his persistence. “Come out or I’m not playing today!”
Jude knew she wasn’t serious, but felt he shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer. With the greatest sheer volume he could produce, he lept from his hiding spot, his eyes widened and gleeful.
She did not scream or shout, she’d learned long ago that only made him proud of his efforts. Instead, after a short tensing of her shoulders, she crossed her arms and frowned.
“I got you!” Jude shouted, laughing and running toward her.
“No you didn’t,” she insisted, and then turned away. “I told you not to do that!”
“Do what?” Jude asked, feigning innocence.
“To not—”
“Scare you?” he interrupted. She frowned again, revealing that he had been successful, but her expression changed when she saw a bright shape coming from his pocket.
“Is that a Dahlia?” she gasped.
Jude buried the flower in his pocket.
“Your dad said not to pick those!” she whispered.
“You won’t tell on me, will you?” Jude asked, retreating a little.
Mary looked at him triumphantly for a moment, realizing that she now had a way to get back at him. She then proposed a bargain.
“If you won’t scare me anymore I won’t tell your dad.” She stretched out her hand.
Jude looked at it carefully, disappointed that his carelessness had cost him his delight in scaring Mary. But, he decided that it was better to give it up than to risk his dad’s wrath, and shook her hand.
“Now let me see it,” Mary said.
Jude took it carefully out of his pocket and held it out. Mary took it in both hands, surveying it closely and with unparalleled awe.
“You crushed half of its petals!” she gasped, touching one side of it gently where Jude had thrust it into his pocket.
“I tried to be careful,” he protested.
“Well be more careful next time,” she answered. “Or don’t pick it,” she added and then handed it back. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Do you want it?” he asked. He hadn’t really thought much of what he intended to do with it, he’d merely seen it and wanted to pluck it from its bush.
“No,” she quickly said. “I don’t want your dad to find out that I have one of his Dahlias.”
“Well I can’t keep it, he’d definitely find it on me.”
They thought for a moment, looking over the flower and at the many other plants around them.
“Let’s bury it,” Jude suggested.
“No,” Mary insisted, “you can’t bury a flower.”
“Why not?”
“Because it already came out of the ground,” she said. “You can’t put it back. You have to do something special with it.”
“Like burn it?” Jude asked, remembering that some people burned their dead.
“No!” she shouted, and then took it back. “I have an idea, follow me.”
They walked through the garden, past the Dahlia bush Jude had plucked the flower from, and on toward the small pond at the center of the garden. The water was always so clear and still here, and Jude loved the way the fish moved elegantly beneath the surface yet above the murky bottom, as if they were in between two worlds.
They approached the bank, and once they were very near it, Mary knelt down and gently placed the Dahlia flower in the water. She then brushed the surface behind the flower lightly.
“Help me,” she said, motioning for him to kneel down and help start a current. Working together, they gradually pushed the flower out toward the center of the pond.
They were both silent as the flower floated out, and Jude agreed that this was much better than burying or burning the flower.
“There,” Mary said once the flower was at the center of the pond. “Here in the open it can have a peaceful rest.”
Jude smiled and nodded, agreeing that this was the correct way to treat a flower. They then continued, and went about running through the flowers and bushes, listening to the birds and watching the bugs until the sun set.
“Jude!” Mary’s voice called out.
Jude looked up from his book, his eyes scanning the sunlit area outside of the shade of the great rhododendron tree he sat under. He hadn’t realized he’d been reading so long and quickly finished the paragraph before dog-earing the page and closing the book.
“Jude!” she called again.
He hesitated for a moment and considered burrowing into the elderberry bush to jump out and scare her when she got closer. But for some reason, even after nearly three years, the memory of the promise he had made Mary concerning the Dahlia stuck with him, and he decided against scaring her.
“Mary?” he said, approaching the row of hydrangea bushes she usually came around. When she appeared, both faces lit with a smile.
Mary instantly recognized the book he’d been reading, and her face widened in surprise.
“Is that The Call of the Wild?” she asked.
Jude didn’t answer and wished he’d thought far enough ahead to leave the book under the tree.
“You were supposed to finish that like two weeks ago, before school ended,” she said, and her brows lowered. “How did you pass the test?”
“Pat read it,” he admitted. “And he gave me the summary.”
Mary gasped, and then gave Jude a look worse than the one his teacher would have given had she known.
“I’m still going to finish it!” Jude explained, “I just couldn’t get it all done in time.”
“You cheated?” Mary whispered, her eyes widening.
“Yeah,” Jude sighed. “And I see it was wrong now, but please, don’t tell on me,” he pleaded. He had for the past two weeks truly regretted putting off reading the book. The guilt he felt now was not worth whatever he had deemed important enough to decide to delay reading the book.
Mary sighed before answering.
“It’s such a good book,” she said. “Why wouldn’t you just read it when it’s due?”
“It’s a sad book,” Jude said. He wasn’t finished with it, but wasn’t sure why Mary of all people would have called it a good book.
“Yeah, it’s sad,” she admitted. “But most good books have sad parts. Just like life.”
“I guess,” Jude said.
“Promise never to cheat again,” Mary suddenly demanded. Jude looked up quickly, somewhat nervous at such a commitment. “Or I’ll tell your dad you cheated,” she added.
“Alright!” he quickly agreed. “I promise never to cheat again,” he said, although he had slipped one hand behind his back and crossed his fingers. He would do his best to keep to his promise, but if things ever got out of hand or he slipped up, he wanted to be free to do what he had to. “Now what should we do?” he asked. “It’s already mid afternoon.”
“I want to see the Dahlia bush again,” Mary said, her eyes lighting up.
“Why?” Jude asked. He knew why, but couldn’t help remembering the single flower that had once been floating at the middle of the pond.
“Because it’s the most beautiful bush here!” she answered. “Let’s go,” she said and quickly led the way.
They walked along and Jude’s attitude progressed until he’d forgotten his guilt over both cheating and plucking the Dahlia flower three years ago. He listened as Mary explained why the bush was so beautiful and smelled the flowers when she instructed. He loved to hear her talk about the flowers and plants, it brought the garden to life in a way no one else could. He’d never seen anyone so happy at being able to walk among the bushes and plants, or love listening to the birds so much. He enjoyed all of these things, but not like she did. It seemed like she found strength in each of them, as if they returned the life she gave them. He decided he would never forget these summers for as long as he lived, and he hoped they would never change.
Jude let out a small puff of smoke as he gazed out from beneath the shade of the rhododendron tree. He watched it curl upwards, spiraling continuously upon itself until there was hardly a form left. It wafted toward the colorful blossoms of the tree, where its odor clashed with the fragrance of the garden.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply as he inhaled more nicotine. He felt its soothing sensation wash over him and for a moment forgot the past three years of school and all of its troubles. His grades, his antagonistic schoolmates, and the continuous headache of nonsense garbled by what friends he did have all floated away with the smoke.
“Jude!” a voice called out.
His eyes shot open, and he immediately sat up. He knew the voice all too well, and further knew that Mary would not approve of smoking. He quickly stood, dropped the cigarette and stamped it out as best he could. Using his foot, he then wove it as deep into the grass until it was buried from sight.
“Jude?” the voice called again as she drew closer.
Jude left the tree and walked toward her, hoping the smell hadn’t yet attached too tightly to him.
She rounded the hydrangea bush as she always did, only, it had been quite some time since he’d seen her. They went to different schools now, and he was much busier on the weekends. As he could recall, it had been several months since he’d last seen his longest childhood friend.
“Jude!” she said as she appeared. A mutual smile broke out, and she ran to hug him. He was surprised at how beautiful she was. He’d never really noticed it before, but she was a pretty girl, much more so than the ones at his school. She was almost pure. Those girls hung out where they weren’t supposed to, badmouthed everyone, and just seemed unlikable. They were all much more like him, he suddenly realized.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said as she stepped back to look him over. “It’s been so long!”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Like four months?” He couldn’t help but feel a strange guilt, as if he was somehow unworthy of her kind and considerate smile. He did his best not to show it though, and averted his mind to the happy days they’d spent in the garden. They began to walk through the garden, the bright flowers and lush greens inviting them into their soothing tranquility.
“So what have you been doing since I left?” she asked. “Does the school miss me?”
“Nope,” he joked before answering, “yeah, your old friend group misses you.” He didn’t mention how much he suddenly realized he had missed her, and felt that it didn’t matter now that she was here. “I’ve been keeping busy with school mostly,” he concluded.
“Oh yeah?” she asked with visible surprise. “You stay true to your promise?” she asked with a smile, recalling the promise she’d forced him to make. “No more cheating?”
“Yep,” he smiled. “No more cheating.” Whether this was true or not, he didn’t want to consider.
“I’m proud of you Jude,” she said, elbowing him slightly. This brought a surge of guilt forward, and Jude had to look away to keep from showing it.
“What have you been up to?” he asked, hoping to change the topic.
“I’ve been busy with school too,” she said. “And trying to look at colleges.”
“Have you decided where you’re going?” he asked.
“I’ve got several I’m looking at,” she answered, her face contorted in uncertainty. “But I’d rather not move too far from home if I don’t have to.”
Jude nodded.
“What about you?” she asked. “Have you decided yet?”
“No,” he answered. “I try not to think about it,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh come on,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll do great.”
He didn’t say anything, mostly because he was quite certain he wouldn’t do very well and also because he wanted to go much farther away than Mary.
“Well, if you ever need some help, feel free to ask me,” she offered, and then added, “unless it’s math.”
They both smiled and continued walking.
“It’s crazy to believe we’ll be graduating in a year,” Mary remarked.
“Yeah,” he commented. “It seems like only yesterday we were running around and picking flowers.”
“You were the one picking flowers,” she pointed out.
“True,” he admitted.
There was a brief silence, and then Mary let out a troubled sigh.
“Jude,” she began, “when did you start smoking?”
Jude stopped walking for a moment, a dead giveaway that she had stuck the truth. But he couldn’t admit that.
“What are you talking about, I don’t smoke,” he answered. But he felt the sweat and fear of conviction swarm him.
“Oh come on,” she said, crossing her arms and turning to face him. “I can smell it on you, Jude.”
He didn’t respond, but looked away.
“What are you thinking?!” she asked, her voice full of disappointment and anger. He felt his own anger rise to protect his guilt.
“Cut it out,” he retaliated. “I’m basically an adult.”
“Yeah, which makes it worse,” she said, her brows lowered in concern. “Do you want to kill yourself?”
He didn’t answer. He’d heard it all before, but somehow it sounded different coming from Mary. He wasn’t sure why, but she made him feel more guilty than anyone else could have, he was sure of it.
He heard Mary sigh again after she’d finished her speech. There was a long silence, and Jude kept his eyes on the ground, recalling the cigarette he’d buried not far from there.
“Listen,” Mary said softly. “I care about you, okay? So do tons of other people, especially your dad.”
He looked up at her, his ears burning with shame, yet his heart also beating quickly at her words.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to have to bring this to someone else,” she said, her kind face exhibiting sternness. “Alright?”
He nodded, feeling very much like a child.
Mary then did something he had not expected her to do. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him.
“Be careful,” she said. “There’s lots of messed up stuff out there.”
“Yeah,” he said, hugging her back.
He felt warmth return to his heart, and the icy grip of guilt release. They walked back through the garden, conversing much more honestly now. Jude felt that he had been restored, and committed to stop smoking before it became the problem she had warned it would.
As they reached the edge of the garden, the setting sun cast a crimson hue across the hydrangeas, and Mary left. Jude watched her go, his heart hopeful, and a smile across his face.
Jude waited by the hydrangeas, feeling the fragrant wind brush over his face. The first year of college had been tough, and he was eager to see Mary again. He hadn’t seen the garden in quite some time, only when he visited his dad, and those times had been few and far between during each semester. He’d gotten so caught up in school and life that it sometimes felt like he didn’t have anything else. He was tired, almost always, and never felt like he had enough rest even though he spent a good portion of the weekend sleeping. One part of him suggested the cause for such weariness, but he quickly put it aside. There was nothing more painful than that little ounce of truth one can’t avoid. Yet Jude decided he could avoid it for the time being, certainly while he was meeting with Mary. He’d been embarrassed in the past, and wouldn’t let it happen again. He was better than that now, and he didn’t need her help or instruction anymore. He wasn’t the child who had taken the Dahlia, he was old enough now to take care of himself.
“Jude?” he heard Mary’s voice from behind him as she rounded the hydrangeas.
He turned, smiling and forgetting everything. In that moment it was as if they’d never been apart. They embraced for a moment, and Jude was thankful that he’d agreed to meet her.
“How have you been? How’s college?” she asked all at once, her eyes searching and sincere. He loved those eyes, they were so pure, so innocent and free. Jude felt that they hadn’t changed at all since they’d been young, she still had the crystalline pureness her eyes had always held.
“College has been good,” he began to explain as they walked. “It’s tough, of course, but I’m surviving.”
“Are you keeping up with your classes?” she asked, her affectionate motherly tone taking to the air.
“Of course,” he said. “College is expensive, I’m not going to wast my money.”
“Well good,” she said with a smile, but he felt that there was a bit of unhappy reflection in her voice.
“Is everything okay Mary?” he asked. She rarely grew sorrowful, and had always seemed so free of all difficulty that it hurt him to see her this way.
She sighed before answering, and averted her eyes when she did.
“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to finish college,” she said. “At least, not right now.”
“Why?” he asked. “You’ve always been a straight-A student,” he added.
“Like you said, college is expensive,” she explained. “And now just might not be a good time.”
There was a brief silence, but Jude knew there was more she wasn’t telling him. He thought quickly, knowing that he would be unable to rest until she was happy again.
“What else is it?” he asked. “You can tell me Mary.”
She hesitated, but finally answered. Her reflective eyes looked up into his, and he suddenly felt angry that anything, be it a person, nature, or the unexplained features of life, could deal her wrongly.
“It’s my mom,” she said. “She’s taking a turn for the worst, and I feel like the money I’ve saved for college should be put toward her treatment.”
“But—”
“I can finish college some other time,” she interrupted, her eyes committed. “But I can’t always be with my mom.”
There was a grim silence as Jude contemplated her words. He knew of a remedy, a way he could help her, but dared not mention it to her. She was far too pure, far too innocent. Instead, he twisted it into something presentable.
“Maybe I could help,” he offered.
She looked up at him, and again he knew that he would move heaven and earth to ease her pain.
“You’re still in college,” she protested, “you can’t throw that away too.”
“I’m in a few clubs, maybe I could throw together a fundraiser for your mom,” he suggested.
“No,” she answered, but he caught a sliver of hope in her eyes. That was all he needed.
“Oh come on, let me at least try,” he persisted. “If nothing happens there’s no harm done. But if people pull together—” he smiled and gave her a hopeful look.
“Thanks Jude,” she said. His heart felt full and overflowed with more flowers than the garden contained. There was a peaceful silence now, in which they both simply appreciated one another’s company.
“Are you doing okay?” she then asked. Her tone was different, familiar, and peeled some of the magic from his eyes. It was the same voice she had used before, when she’d confronted him about his smoking. He didn’t want that tone, he didn’t need that tone. He was here for her, as her equal. Just this one time he wanted to be the one to help her out of her troubles.
“Yeah,” he answered vaguely, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just stressed,” he added. It was hard lying to her, so hard that he could not force himself to look into her eyes, the same orbs of starlight he’d treasured only moments ago.
“I get that,” she said, and looked away. “Life is stressful enough. Add classes and teachers to the mix and sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.”
You could never go crazy, he thought to himself, not like me. It was a harsh, convicting thought, and he instantly buried it.
“How do you deal with stress?” she asked.
“Mostly by hanging out with friends,” he answered. It didn’t matter if it was the truth or not, it made her happy.
“So you’re making friends?” she smiled, “don’t forget about me,” she added with a playfully lowered brow.
“I could never,” he said. He didn’t realize how serious his response had sounded, and was surprised when she blushed. “We’ve been friends since like forever,” he quickly added.
“True,” she said, and kept her eyes on the flowers ahead. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”
They walked a little further, and Jude felt a young and quiet understanding grow between them. It was beautiful, and, as of yet, harmless. He wanted to focus on it, to express it, but felt that she would rather enjoy the simplicity of the moment.
Before long the sun began to set, and they made their way to the hydrangea bushes.
“Let’s not wait too long to meet again,” Mary said as they parted.
Jude nodded and watched her go. The words fueled his heart and mind into committing the action necessary to keep her pure smile. Here in the garden he knew that all was good, all was innocent. As long as she was there.
Jude waited beside the hydrangeas, recalling and replaying the last time he and Mary had spoken. The memory, her beautiful eyes, and the joy she’d expressed at his offer had stayed with him for as long as they’d been apart, and he was anxious to see her now that things had been restored.
He took great pride in what he’d done. What he’d done for her.
He’d done what he said he would do and provided the money for her mother’s treatment as well as a little extra for her tuition. It was like a fairytale, and the colorful garden was the magical world they lived in. Anything seemed possible.
“Jude!” her voice brought him to attention. She was coming through the hydrangeas quickly, and he approached as she rounded the corner.
But where he had expected to find a joyful, thankful, and magical creature, he saw Mary appear much angrier and sullen than he’d ever seen her.
“Mary?” he asked softly, lowering his smile to match her torn expression. “Mary, are you alright?”
“Am I alright?” she retorted, and Jude saw tears begin to spring from those pure, precious eyes. “Jude, how could you?” she whispered.
He shook his head, although he knew perfectly well what she was referring to. But he would not be the reason for her sorrow, not now and not ever. Not if he was able to avoid it.
“Mary, calm down,” he said as he approached her. “Here,” he reached out take her shoulders gently, but she recoiled. Jude froze, and her expression convinced him immediately that no lie would save him from her. He lowered his arms and stood still, his face growing solemn.
“How could you do such a thing?” she asked, her brows lowered but her face still the perfect picture of affection. Only it was a different kind of affection, Jude realized that it was the sort that he had longed for only mixed with despair and disappointment.
“I had to,” he began.
“Had to?!” She shook her head angrily. “You didn’t have to! I was ready to put my degree on hold, I was willing, Jude, to sacrifice for my mother.”
“You didn’t have to,” Jude shook his head and approached again. “I sacrificed for you.” He quickly added, “and your mom.”
“You didn’t sacrifice,” she scoffed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You stole it, Jude. I know you did, you—” she put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes for a moment.
Jude said nothing as she calmed herself.
“You lied to me,” she then said, and Jude felt his very soul shatter. Looking into her eyes he saw that he had only increased her pain, that he, he of all people, was responsible for a far greater pain than she had carried before. He felt his eyes tear, and ran his hands through his hair as he breathed heavily.
“What can I do—” he asked, his voice weak and unsteady. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Jude,” she sighed, her glossy eyes furiously broken. “It’s not me you have to make it up to,” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. She shook her head, bewildered.
“You have to take it back,” she said.
“I can’t,” Jude said, “it’s already spent on your mother and your tuition!” His cheeks were now wet and his hands trembling slightly.
“Then turn yourself in,” she said firmly. The command struck him with a force he’d never experienced. He saw it in her too, it was breaking her. She had barely managed to say the words, and even now he could see that more tears would spill out if he protested.
“But you—”
“Turn yourself in, Jude,” she repeated. “If you ever loved me—” she paused, and Jude realized the full gravity of what he had done, “you will turn yourself in.”
He fell to his knees. The sky faded, the alluring beauty of the garden was shrouded in darkness, and he felt the coldness of night bite at him. Mary was gone, probably forever, and Jude remained on his knees, broken and void of the one thing he had fixated on all these years.
Looking down at his hands he recalled her final commission. He knew it was the only way, that only by fulfilling her wish could he have any hope of seeing her happy, innocent eyes again.
But when he looked up, he saw the road before him. Even in the dim light of night he could see the path, surrounded by bustles of flowers and bushes, and at the center, the garden exit. It was there, waiting for him, and ready to accept him into the dry blandness of the world outside the garden. He knew that the world outside held no Dahlias, nor did it have rhododendron trees to sit under. All it had was an open road. And while it was asphalt rather than the soft dirt and grass of the garden, it would take him somewhere else, somewhere less painful. Somewhere Mary would not find him.
He rose, and wiping the tears from his cheeks, left the garden.
Jude ran, darting underneath cracked tree branches and leaping over rusty bushes. The sun beat down on him without mercy, condemning him as everyone else had, and attempting to slow him. He would not submit so easily, and continued running until he reached the large elderberry bush. After taking a look behind him he dove into it. He pushed its dried leaves, rotten berries, and wilted flowers in front of the bush, concealing himself entirely. And then he rested.
He breathed heavily and slowly, his sweat drenching his t-shirt. It stung his eyes, and he tried to wipe it away with his arm but only smeared it. He gritted his teeth as he felt the bugs begin to notice his salty sweat. They came to him as if through magnetic force, latching onto him and drowning in the moisture that coated his body. He wiped several of them away but could not keep them all off. He swung wildly at them for a moment before turning to the important task at hand.
He removed from his pocket the small handgun. His grimy hand trembled as he held it and it was soon coated in his hot sweat, simply another part of the wretched mess he had become. He placed it on the dirt beside him and then set to digging.
Dirt crept under his fingernails and his sweat smeared it across his hands and arms. The dirt was cool, but provided no relief.
He felt another liquid touch his cheek, and blinking, he realized it was a tear. He wiped his cheek and sniffed, and for some reason found himself stopping his digging. He looked at the hole. The dirt within it was dark, almost as dark as the gun except his sweat did not shimmer off it as it did the gun. He listened, but the only sound he could hear was his own breathing. His breathing, a steady rising and falling accompanied by short interruptions when his throat would catch in an attempt to express what he refused to acknowledge.
He looked to the gun. It sat quietly, already warm but ready should it be required again. He didn’t want it to be required, but he felt that it had one final purpose yet. That only it could undo everything and return the garden to the blissful innocence it had once held. He stretched out his hand toward it.
“Jude!” a voice, now unrecognizable, interrupted him. He only recognized what it would mean if anyone else were to see him.
Gritting his teeth, he quickly buried the tool beneath the elderberry bush and immediately tensed and crouched lower. He waited and listened as he heard footsteps rounding the hydrangea bush. There was no going back now, and another witness would only force him to run farther. He steeled himself for what he would have to do.
“Jude,” the voice called, a broken whisper, but still enough to put him away for life.
He didn’t answer, and he didn’t recognize the speaker as she turned the corner.
Just as the third calling of his name began to form, he lept out from the bush, his eyes wild to the point of blindness and his grimy hands outstretched like a wild animal. With a grip as firm as fear, they clasped around the soft pale neck.
Tighter, tighter!
He obeyed, and no resistance was made as the last flower fell from the Dahlia bush.
He breathed heavily, and lifting himself, saw the fruit of his hands.
He put his hand to his mouth, but no amount of effort could stop him from inhaling the sudden stench of the garden. It was rancid, and the vibrant flower against the dead dry grass only reminded him of what it used to be. It choked him and forced him to his knees, where he clawed at the dry grass and drove his fingernails into the coarse dirt.
“Jude,” he heard again. It was a soft and sweet exclamation.
He looked up, his eyes blazing saucers of despair. There, not twenty feet from him, were two children. They were running through the garden, one with a flower in his hand and the other with free, empty hands. Those small innocent hands took the flower in cupped hands and carried it to the pond, the other child following close behind.
Jude followed them, taking his own Dahlia up in his arms.
The little girl placed the flower on the motionless surface and the two gently pushed it forward into the soft reflection of the sinking sun.
Jude stepped into the water, following the Dahlia as it rippled to the center of the pond. He lowered himself, the soft floor of the pond giving way to his heavy feet, and released his flower.
And then, watching the flower float, he let himself slip from the surface of the garden and down to the dark muck of the bed below.
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