"Ah... how satisfying." Henry sipped Darjeeling tea, its sweet, fruity taste playfully tickling his tongue. The colourful flowers, perfectly aligned trees and expertly planted vegetables all combined into a heavenly sight. One that brought him great pride.

It was a place of relaxation. A shelter that offered refuge. But most of all, it was a reminder of all the hard work.

His garden.

However... there was one problem. A small, furry problem that refused to relent.

"Those bushy-tailed squirrel bastards..." He muttered with a creased brow. Dark memories of the deceased Marigold flowers resurfacing. Another victim of theirs, mercilessly slaughtered before their time.

Henry loved those Marigolds...

Then there was the chittering and scratching. A sound as grating and just as irritating as a continuously yapping dog. Yet, unlike an ordinary dog, this one would appear at the worst possible times.

Almost always resulting in some sort of battle.

'Don't get me wrong. I normally like animals. But those squirrels are evil. Damaging such a perfect garden is criminal, you know?! Vandalism! And let's not forget about my afternoon naps? I love naps!' Henry slammed his cup down at the indignity of it all, his breathing ragged and uneven.

The conflict had been going on for so long that he'd even given them nicknames.

There was Amber. A rather lazy specimen with a talent for cunning schemes. Often stealing items or sabotaging gardening goods. Gray, a squirrel with too much energy, loud and brash, this one caused the most damage. And lastly, Red. She was the leader, a devil in disguise with small, furry, rodent-like features.

"Just wait, my fuzzy little friends..." Henry took a final sip of tea as an evil, scheming grin emerged. Similar to some cliche villains in the animes he frequently enjoyed watching. "You won't have it so easy next time." The constant torture. The mutilated plants. And his afternoon naps, all of them would be avenged.

And soon.

It was a solemn vow. One that he intended to be kept at all costs. His mind already picturing the squirrels fleeing in panic.

However, just as Henry began to savour the image, the nearby bush rustled suspiciously.

"Speak of the devil..." He commented in a low voice, his eyes darting towards the disturbance.

One rustle, two rustles, until...

As expected, the bushy-tailed bandits made their appearance. Red, like always, was at the front. Followed by her two sidekicks, Gray and Amber. All three of them energetically rushed across the grass. Frolicking under the sunlight as if to mock his efforts.

Henry clicked his tongue. "Oh, you think you're clever, huh?" Rising swiftly from his chair, he stealthily moved towards the shed. "In that case, let's see how you like my latest purchase." Pulling the door open, all kinds of contraptions were revealed.

He tossed a few to the side.

Eventually, picking up one with multiple nozzles and hoses. It was an ingenious device that would startle the squirrels, spraying them with harmless but concentrated blasts of water.

A crooked grin crept across his face as he set it up in their favourite flower bed.

'The damn squirrels can't get enough of the place. Heh. Little do they know that today it will be their downfall!'

The anticipation was intoxicating.

In fact, Henry became so fixated on the prospect of revenge that he missed something important. A small hose. One that had unknowingly gotten wrapped around his foot.

Something that would come back to bite him sooner than he expected.

Oblivious to it all. Henry puffed out his chest like a proud peacock. "Alright, you little devils. Prepare to meet your match!" His mind was totally dominated by images of scared little squirrels at this point.

A cherished dream come true.

So, with a sense of glee, he bent down with his finger outstretched towards the device—one step away from victory.

Only for Red to come dashing over towards him before he could reach it. She zipped left, then right. Full of energy. Almost as if she knew exactly what Henry was up to.

Closer and closer.

Right up until she somehow managed to trigger the device early with him standing in the crosshairs.

How?

Henry didn't quite get it, either.

But he knew enough to get out of the way. His foot moving backwards. Or rather, he tried to move it backwards, anyway. Only to notice the hose wrapped around a foot. Time seemingly slowed down at this moment. His mouth hung wide open with both eyebrows raised. A silly look that said: I'm fucked, and I know it.' painted upon his features.

A comical sequence soon unfolded: tripping over the hose, followed by the wild flailing of arms to regain balance. Almost as if doing some sort of helicopter impression.

Henry yelped in a high-pitched voice, "Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" Powerless to resist, he fell backwards into the pond. Creating a dramatic splash that sent multiple goldfish flying across the lawn.

Stolen story; please report.

Only after a couple of seconds had passed did he finally surface again. "Damnit..." Spitting out a mouthful of water in irritation.

The squirrels had won this battle.

"But not the war!" He roared out defiantly. Trying to salvage at least a shred of dignity. But just when he was about to get out of the pond, unexpectedly, his feet slipped on its smooth bottom, a large decorative rock welcoming his head on the way down.

Sharp, throbbing pain exploded from the wound as Henry cried out. "AGHHHH!" Then, a strange numbness slowly spread through his body.

Floating face-up on the water's surface, the blue, cloudless sky above became the only view. "I... can't move?" He realised. Not only that either, in fact, he couldn't feel a damn thing, not even the coldness of the water.

His vision was slowly fading, darkness enveloping the edges—gradually going inwards.

'Is... is this it? I'm going to die in my own pond?' A deep sense of unease took over at the thought.

Henry didn't want to die.

But he felt tired. So, so tired. As if heavy weights were attached to his eyelids.

Seconds ticked by as everything continued to fade away, along with the pain. The reality of the situation finally sank in.

This was it, he realised. 'Killed by squirrels in my own garden... What a way to go...' The humiliation felt so damn strong. Yet even that gradually lost all meaning.

The darkness swallowed everything up without restraint.

....

An unknown amount of time later, Henry opened his eyes. Or, at least, that's what it felt like. '...Eh? Why's it so dark here?'

Looking around, there was nothing. Not even any sounds or basic bodily sensations; in fact, it was impossible to move or speak.

'I'm really dead, huh?' It was the only possible explanation when considering the flow of events. The pond, the trip leading to an immense amount of pain, until finally, an all-encompassing darkness.

Only an idiot wouldn't be able to piece it all together.

'Although I have to say, the accommodations are a bit lacking... The wallpaper is a bit dark for my taste.'

Pitch-black darkness, what kind of furniture would even match with that?

'Wait a second. If I'm dead, does that mean there's no more tea? No plants? What about my lovely garden?!' Henry began to feel a bit panicked until it slowly turned into depression, realising that he might have to go cold turkey.

No more tea or gardening.

Forever.

'Why don't you just kill me and get it over with!'

'Oh, wait...'

Most people expect pearly gates when they die, not an endless darkness where you're left to stew in your own thoughts. 'Which leads to a question, how long will I be... here?' Henry didn't even know where 'here' was in the first place.

Was it a waiting room of some sort? Purgatory? Maybe a sort of hell that he'd be trapped in forever?

Honestly, that last one scared him a bit too much. So, he chose to drop it for now.

Moving on, he decided to waste some time. Since movement was a no-go, including sight, leisure activities were a bit limited. But where there was a will, there was a way.

It was one of his favourite sayings. One he lived by until this day.

'I spy with my little eye... Something that begins with the letter 'D'.' Henry joked, pausing for a short while before answering with a slight chuckle.

'It's darkness, right?'

Left without much of a choice, he decided to play the waiting game.

'Somethings bound to happen eventually, right?'

Minutes passed, slowly bleeding into what felt like days until he finally stopped counting.

...

An unknown amount of time later.

'Maybe I'm some kinda ghost.' Henry mused. 'A garden ghost, doomed to haunt my own fishpond. Heh. Now, there's a thought... Spooking those squirrels would be great. I could finally teach those furry devils a lesson.'

At this point, he held a deep-seated grudge towards those tree rats.

Laughing evilly at the idea, an imaginary scene appeared before his eyes. 'Boo! Oh, Red, you should see your face!' The scared look on the little squirrel's face brought joy into his otherwise dreary existence.

Stuck in the middle of a place with absolutely nothing to do.

Still, time continued to pass as Henry's internal conversations grew more and more intense. The contents slowly spiralling out of control. 'If you were a plant... what plant would that be?' Questioning himself, to which he chuckled. 'Well. Obviously, a marigold. Sturdy, reliable, a bit prickly. Yup, that's me in a nutshell.'

He paused, considering his next thought. 'Wait, maybe a sunflower would suit me better? Always trying to look for the sun, even after being stuck in the dark. Oh, that's rather poetic of me if I do say so... Maybe I should have been a poet instead of a gardener?'

Henry felt a bit proud at discovering one of his hidden talents through such inner monologues, the only fun activity afforded to him in this dark place.

Though, he had to admit. This place wasn't good for mental health in any shape or form. 'Take me for an example, a couple of marbles may have gone missing. But who's not at least a bit insane these days...'

'It's like that old saying: If you can't beat them, join them. Maybe I'll start my own Lost Marbles Club. Meetings held in the abyss, every day at eternity o'clock.'

His own jokes worked wonders to distract him most of the time. But sometimes, feelings of loneliness and longing managed to break through. Since deep down, he craved to return to his old life.

One filled with plants. Tea. And a perfect garden...

The happy memories of all those sunny days spent tending to the plants filled his mind. It was a bittersweet reminder of everything that'd been lost. The lively chirping of birds. The ever-present bees and the rustling of leaves. Each part was so vivid in his mind. However, now they were forever taken away.

Leaving Henry to lament.

'My Poor Garden. I bet the roses have wilted. And by now, the pond would be like a marsh. All of my fish dead.'

The thought made him realise that, most likely, he would completely lose it if he didn't get out of this place. One such terrifying scene came to mind...

[Henry's ludicrous imagination POV Switch]

"Welcome, Lady Lavender, to my most humble abode of uh... darkness."

Henry imagined a regal figure made almost entirely of lavender blooms. Her voice was gentle, reminding him of a soft summer breeze. "Thank you, kind Sir Henry. I have to say, your darkness is quite... Unique."

That was one term for it, alright.

He lightly chuckled upon hearing her words. After all, who didn't want to be unique? "Oh, it has its charms. It really grows on you once you get used to it. Tell me. What news is there from the fragrant fields in the world above?"

Lady Lavender let out a long breath, her petals rustling in the wind. "Sadly. Without your guidance, they've grown wild and untamed. Even the bees are missing your conversation dreadfully."

Henry nodded sadly. He always did enjoy a good natter with one of his garden's most frequent visitors. "Ah, that was what I was afraid of. Is there also any news from the Council of Carrots? I trust Sir Root is keeping his health well enough?"

As his words fell, an elegant-looking carrot materialised next to Lady Lavender. He wore an intricate monocle and a rather formal-looking looking top hat.

After performing a quick, respectful bow, he looked at the pair as his leafy stem sagged downwards. "That is correct, Sir Henry. Although, at the moment, we have a bit of a weevil issue. Your skills are sorely missed within the vegetable patch, I'm afraid to say."

The conversation slowly became more and more ridiculous as it continued.

Henry's favourite plants even had an imaginary tea party. Their topics ranged from certain soil acidity levels all the way to new trends in gardening techniques.

[Normal (unlikely) Henry POV]

'Yeah... That's uh, scary...'