Honestly, the memories I had of my mother were beyond blurry. I hadn’t known why exactly that was until recently, since I was willingly unaware of my own depression for so, so long. I felt fractured, only the vital memories from before my mother passed remaining, alongside the last seven years fading into each other in a way I couldn’t imagine was exactly healthy. Now that I know, now that I can feel the pain of the pieces of myself missing, I dearly, wholly desire to find what I lost.
One of the few things I could remember about my mother was the various lessons she gave me in the garden. The actual image of which, such as my mothers face or traits of the flowers we were tending, were obscured as if underwater, but the knowledge she had imbued into me remained vivid from my stubborn efforts to remember it all. That knowledge is my treasure, the thing that I don’t think I could do without. As far as I knew, the majority of that knowledge just happened to come from “Law of Gardens”, and I had found a copy so quickly. It felt like fate, like everything I had wished while in my room alone had dropped into my hands.
Sitting upon my new dorm’s bed, I held the book in my hands and just stared at it. It was just how I remembered, though I had a feeling this one was rather weathered from use. I didn’t know why I was hesitating to open the book, to read the words that my mother had treated as gospel, but I was shaking. Anxiety filled me, that the contents inside the book’s cover wouldn’t be what I had learned, that the hope and expectation for the smallest connection to my mother would be dashed by me misremembering something that seemed so vital. I was shaking, and I could feel tears form in my eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I gingerly opened the cover of the book, revealing the title page in all of its full glory. As I began to slowly turn through the beginning of the book, I finally reached the first real content of the book, a foreword from the author, Dame Justice Glaive.
To all those who find themselves in possession of my book,
My name is Justice Glaive, or rather, Justi to my friends. I hope as you read the words I have left behind, we become close enough for you to refer to me in that manner within your mind. It might seem a bit of a heavy handed approach to leaving a legacy behind, but I dearly hope that the information I have cultivated from my hard work will positively impact the future of the world. Gardening is a past-time that anyone can perform, and stands as a beacon of equality within our overly traditional world. I hope that one day the skill of gardening will allow someone to enter high society without discrimination.
In order to benefit and spread the information within the pages of this book, you must declare yourself in writing as willing to abide by my Garden’s Laws.
Justice Glaive’s Garden Laws.
First Law: You must not discriminate against people.
Second Law: Treat your partners, whether spirit beast or human, with respect.
Third Law: You must not neglect your plants if at all possible, for they are living creatures just like us.
Fourth Law: You must not waste anything you grow or hunt if at all possible.
Fifth Law: The words of this book cannot be spread to those who are in violation of the Garden’s Laws.
If you are found to be in violation of these laws, you shall be judged and receive your due punishment.
Sign below to declare yourself a guest of the garden:
(Law Violations and punishments will be noted.)
Ophelia Glaive
(No Violations)
Boa Glaive
(One Minor Violation (Fourth Law): Two year probation)
Expunged
(One Major Violation (First Law): Expunged)
Expunged
(One Major Violation (First Law): Expunged)
Expunged
(One Major Violation (Second Law): Expunged)
Kelia
(Three Minor Violations, (First Law): Two month probation, (Fourth Law): Two year ban, (Fifth Law): One week probation)
Illa
(One Major Violation, (Third law): Seven year ban)
Upon reading the listed names, I immediately felt my blood run cold, since I could immediately tell that the book was enchanted in some way. I had completely forgotten about any of this, but now that I read it…
The world around me faded into a memory.
----------------------------------------
Sitting beside the garden table, I happily scratched my name into my mother’s book below hers. I had just turned four, and the letters I had learned recently were really interesting. Whenever my mother was working in the garden, she carried the large book and consulted it often. She didn’t leave it in my reach often, but a bit earlier she had been called to attend to a family friend who was visiting.
I was pretty curious about the book, but upon heaving it into my lap, to my frustration I found that I couldn’t open it past the first few pages. I wasn’t able to read most of the words, but I was able to identify that my mother's name had been written by her upon the last page I had access to.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
With a real bratty smirk, I happily wrote my name below hers.
The book suddenly flashed with a beautiful cerulean light and began to rise above me. I flinched as I heard a gasp followed by a shattering of glass as my mother entered the garden. Blissfully unaware, I smiled and waved at my mother, who proceeded to rush forward, grabbing the book out of the air and slamming it into the table.
To my immediate discomfort, my flustered mother dropped to her knees and looked me in the eyes, her panic and worry obvious on her face.
“Illa dear, why did you sign your name there?”
I nervously glanced at the book before guiltily looking down.
“I-I couldn’t open the book, a-and you wrote your name there so I thought I could too…”
With a sigh, my mother pulled me into her embrace. The rush of anxiety I had felt slowly faded at the sensation of her gently rubbing my back.
“My dear child, My genius little Illa… Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just didn’t expect to start this with you for a few years.”
Standing up, my mother carried me to the center of the garden, where a bright ray of sunlight shined down through the glass roof. I remember giggling as my mother smiled at me and lovingly patted me on the head. My mother sighed as she looked towards the sky, the golden light of the sun reflecting off the deep, sapphire ocean of her eyes.
----------------------------------------
I gasped and clutched my burning chest as I returned to reality. An extremely deep, spiritual pain, unlike anything I had felt before, had made itself home within myself. I couldn’t help but breath an immense sob at the weight of what I had learned. Before I knew it, I felt my consciousness return to another memory…
----------------------------------------
“Illa dear, don’t be that rough. The bulbs don’t like it, and we wouldn’t want them to hate you.”
Nodding to my beaming mother, I focused as I carefully planted a tulip bulb into my mother’s bed of flowers. I didn’t have my own garden, since I was just seven, but my mother let me work within hers to gain some experience. The last three years had been so exciting, the lessons I received on gardening sinking deep into me.
I had come to understand that my mother absolutely loved her garden, and the fact that I was helping her with it was extremely pleasing to her. We both adored the time we spent in the lessons she gave me, and though I wished that father could join beside us, I had learned not to bring it up since mother tended to get a distant look on her face before brushing me off. It was sort of frustrating in its own little way, but I wasn’t going to push for anything. I didn’t want to lose what we had by making her uncomfortable.
Praising myself for my thoughtfulness, I shakily attempted to lift myself into my chair, to no avail as usual. My mother sighed and pulled me into her arms, smiling at me as I was placed into my seat. I huffed as I rolled myself to the garden table, a tad impatient for what was to come with my future growth.
“Mother, why must I be so weak? You and father are both so strong, why can’t I be like you?”
“Ah…”
My mother hesitated, before approaching and kneeling, putting herself at eye level with me. Her voice shook with emotion as she looked me in the eyes, and I could see a rough reflection of myself within them.
“D-Dear… I don’t know how to put this in a way that won’t hurt, but I… I’m not sure if that’s possible. You’ve been so frail since you were born after all, and the doctors have all said that even spirit beasts can’t fix your legs…”
A tear began to roll down my mother’s face, and after a brief flash of emerald light, Jai materialized and nuzzled itself into my mother’s side to reassure her. Wiping her eyes, my mother picked me up out of my chair and hugged me close to her chest.
“I promise that I will do everything that I can to be your strength. Your father has lost hope in you, but I never will. Whenever you need legs, I will be there for you.”
Obviously restraining herself from a sob, my mother places me back into my chair before standing up and turning away. I open my mouth to say something to calm her down, but flinch as she slaps both her cheeks with her palms. My mother turns to me, a look of strength having appeared on her face, her cheeks red from the impact. It was here that I first wished that I was more like my mother, that I didn’t have my father’s features. I wanted her golden hair and sapphire eyes, the freedom and strength that she showed on a daily basis.
She was inspirational in a way I don’t think anyone else ever will be for me.
----------------------------------------
I collapsed as the memory ended, all of the strength having left my body. My chest was burning, my heart on fire as if it had been kindling before the memories returned. I could barely breathe, each breath weighed down by the heaviest sob I had ever experienced. The worst part was that I knew it wasn’t over, that there was one more to go, and it was going to be by far the hardest to remember. I closed my eyes, letting myself drift away once more.
----------------------------------------
The night was supposed to be cheerful. I had gained another mother to replace the one I had lost, and I was congratulated by everyone that was there. She was an amazing woman, rich, famous, beautiful. My father obviously loved her deeply, but I refused to acknowledge that fact.
I refused to accept any of this.
“Illa, be a dear and get me and your father a drink, would you?”
My stepmother, crowing at me from my father’s arm, obviously thought she had won whatever game she had been playing, and that I was a prize. I silently nodded, to avoid her ire, and rolled myself away from the couple who were happily laughing alongside the guests. Upon reaching the banquet table, I froze as I reached for a glass of champagne, the thought that I could just… Not do what I was asked flashing through my head.
I shrugged inwardly and glanced around. Everyone was completely focused on themselves, so I decided to just quietly leave. As I solemnly rolled myself into the hall, I heard a shattering noise from my mother’s garden, which had me rushing to see what had happened.
When I saw the heir from afar, I started to open my mouth to ask what had happened, but nothing escaped my throat after I saw the carnage that had swept over the garden. The man had obviously carelessly trampled the entirety of my mother’s garden with the girls he had with him. They had even knocked over the heirloom table that my mother had brought with her when she got married.
Fury in my chest, I wanted to scream right then and there, to express the pure, negative emotions that had arisen within me over the last three days. I wanted to sob, to be the child that I knew I was entitled to be at this age. I wished to cling to my mother, to cry and wail and whine about everything going horribly wrong.
But something sobered me.
The laws.
I knew that if I made a scene, I would probably be punished, both by the adults and the book. My mother had made clear that ignoring the laws would cause me pain unlike anything I had ever felt, that would lose what we had done together for however long the book deemed necessary, if not forever.
Unfortunately, a dark idea had also formed from the idea of the laws. My mother was gone; and my memories were immensely painful. If I was right…
I gulped, and then rolled myself back to right outside of the reception hall. Taking a deep breath, I did my best to deepen my voice as I screamed.
“THE HEIR IS IN DANGER! ASSASSIN IN THE GARDEN!”
Immediately as the hall’s doors slammed open and the adults rushed to the garden, a haze drifted over my mind, and I found myself unaware of the truth of reality. I grew sick with what I assumed was anxiety after that night, and I hid myself away on the orders of my father, losing access to the garden in the process.
I had lost my mother entirely, and I would probably never regain her.