Bloom with me.

Mr.Ghilt’s morning was nothing special: burnt toast and bitter coffee. Rooms that desperately needed dusting. Empty chitter-chatter of a morning show. Birds watching your every step from the dusty canvases. His movements were a bit too agitated and his lips were folding into a weird shape that strived to resemble a smile. Even the birds on the walls seemed to enjoy climbing Everest. Once the birds were greeting the sun with their cheerful songs, Mr Ghilt grabbed his keys, a bottle of spring water and dived into the blazing sunlight. He was blessed by the Goddess herself to embark on a little Sunday adventure. He put on a cap and followed her advice.

To say that outings like this were a rare occasion would be a lie. Once every month he would make room in his schedule for a trip to the Garden of Eternity. One could find all kinds of flowers from all over the worlds and was a perfect place for a peaceful and joyful walk.

Mr Guilt opened the gates and walked into his little piece of Heaven. He was greeted by a gust of wind which was playing a beautiful melody. It was ‘Under the Moonlight’ by the infamous Veegale Stark. The melody was so well-known that it could be embedded into everyone’s DNA.

‘Hey, Ghilty! Clockwork as always. Nice to see you on a day like this,’ the man in dungarees was shouting from somewhere behind the little green barn.

‘You too, Mr Robur! I see you’ve dug yourself in some dirty work today as well,’ Mr Ghilt’s remark was met with a smile on a wrinkled face.

‘Be my age and you’ll understand - there’s nothing more rewarding than seeing your crop grow.’

‘And then eat it.’

‘Of course! What else are you going to do? You grew your potatoes to eat!’ the two men were laughing. That was a perfect beginning for the walk around the Eternity.

The Garden was popular among the residents. It was a perfect place to relax as well as educate yourself on flowers. The Garden was divided into two parts - the part which housed flowers, benches and endless picnics and the other one had nothing but bare trunks. Once the Garden was whole - the flowers from across the universe were living side by side with the majestic Trees of Prophecy.

Those trees were special - in autumn leaves would fly to those in despair or in luck and give them hope or a warning. Orange leaves meant prosperity and brown ones - downfall. But after the Great Conquest, there was nothing left from the magic of Nature. Everything was to be settled through the middlemen - the Gods. They annihilated every leaf of prophecy in the land and left nothing but the dry trunks, which served as a reminder of the newly established power.

There had been times when Mr Ghilt thought of burying his worries among the trees which would never bloom, but no one was allowed there. No one except for the retters.

Lost in thought about Gods and retters, Mr Ghilt made it past the Heavenly and Fairy flowers and was heading straight to his favourite spot, no, their favourite spot, the never-ending field of tulips. His heart fluttered at the sight of colourful petals. Finally, he was at home. He found a hidden path near the yellow tulips and headed to the main reason for his outing. He looked around - the flowers stretched over the horizon. Once foreign to the land - they seemed like they had always belonged there. If the road to the end of the world was plastered with tulips - he would gladly walk the path and take a dive into eternal peace.

According to the legends, the tulips were the Goddess’ tears. No one knew what kind of Goddess she was or what had happened to her. The only piece of information one could find under tulips in any book was the following ‘Once Her wrath seized and grief took over - the tears of helplessness hit the ground and turned into tulips’.

As Mr Ghilt was walking deeper into the field, the flowers grew bigger and stronger. His feet were constantly getting tangled in the thick stems and his arms were getting bruised by the heavy and solid petals. There was no doubt - no one was welcome in this neck of the woods. Finally, after having struggled with the armoured tulips, Mr Ghilt stopped. He looked down at the mysterious flower and smiled.

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‘Here you are! Today your army has been more alert than usual’ He lied down on the bed of tulips and closed his eyes. They weren’t trying to stop him anymore, instead they curled around his body like a suit - hugging his every part, making him their own. He felt at peace - he wished he could stay like this forever next to Her.

‘Today you look different. You don’t glow as brightly as usual and you have all these thorns on your stem. I hope you’re fine’. The wind was playing another love melody. It was lovely but too jolly, to Mr Ghilt’s taste.

‘You know it will be different this time. I can feel it. She is different.’ The stems around his body gripped him harder. A bit more - and he would struggle to breathe.

‘I had a dream the other day. I was standing at the end of the cliff and gazing over the water. It reminded me of the painting we used to love. Over Eternal Peace. We were dreaming of seeing it. The real it.’ He felt relieved as the tulips softened their grip and the petals on the flower glowed brighter.

‘It was just like that painting. I was trying to look over the horizon, but there was nothing but water. I felt at peace. There was no noise and no voices. Just me and the wind. I wish we could be there together.’ He stooped as if waiting for the response but there was dead silence

‘Everything will change soon. They are inviting her to ‘study’, as they always do. I promise, Elodea, I will protect her.’ His voice cracked and his cheeks were glistening from the tears. No one knows how long he had cried for, but no one had heard anything but the melody the wind was playing.

The stars had already covered the blue velvet sky when Mr Ghilt made his way back to the entrance. The top of a burnt tree caught his eye. He could swear something moved there. He was about to take a step when a familiar voice stopped him.

‘Long time no see, Ghilty.’ A tall slender figure rose in front of his eyes. Her long raven hair accentuated the dark circles under the dull blue eyes and her bones could cut through the crimson dress which seemed a size too big for her.

‘Mrs Dose, what a pleasant surprise.’ The words so empty - Mr Ghilt almost chuckled at his indifference.

‘Mr Ghilt, I can never get a sight of you at school.’ Mrs Dose’ smile turned into a grin, exposing white sharp teeth - the ones of a predator, he thought. ‘You seem to always bury yourself in those many papers they send your way. What an asset you must be to them.’

‘What can I say, I am a reliable employee. Have a nice evening, Mr Dose.’ He bowed his head and turned around.

‘You don't paint, do you?’ She knew what she was doing as Mr Ghilt froze as if he was spellbound.‘ None of these silly birds of yours can compare to the masterpieces you once created. If you continue, it will bring nothing but pain to you. Every brushstroke you make turns into a tulip.’ Every word reeked with poison. If Mr Ghilt wasn’t immune to such viciousness, he could have been influenced by her words. She was fishing for his reactions - she wanted to see what could possibly break him. So far no one could find his breaking point. No matter what life threw at him, he cockroached through.

Whatever reaction Mrs Dosewas expecting, she wasn’t ready to hear laughter. A good hearty laugh. Mr Ghilt’s eyes locked with hers.

‘I am living under the veil of tulips.’ These were the most sincere words he had uttered in a while. He turned around and let the darkness swallow him as he was walking further away from the Eternal Gates.

***

The birds, making history during the French Revolution, could hardly be seen in the dim candlelight. Mr Ghilt was sitting at the massive desk, glaring at the piece of paper in his hands. He was about to send the letter. This time his plan would work. He’d make sure of it.

The letter was sealed. The candles were blown down. The change was coming.

***

Dear Gemma ,

You have been granted the scholarship and the First School of Economics. We recognise your outstanding performance in the field of Maths and Literature. We would appreciate it if such a bright mind as yours would exchange knowledge with our students. We will provide you with all the necessities: accommodation, books and additional student’s payments.

If you would like to join our programme, please send us a letter, confirming your participation, to the address on the envelope.

Regards,

C. POTTER GHILT