Ava’s Garden

In May it will have been twelve years since I started growing it. The garden in the backyard is my pride and joy, although I never let anyone in. Its rows of foxgloves and its exquisite maple tree whose branches teetered over the fence and onto the street behind it, were my getaway. The lilacs in rows, the roses growing up the fence, the greenery perfectly placed. It’s all mine. Until, about five years ago. A family had moved in across the street, a young couple and their eight year old daughter. In the sixty years before I had the garden, no one had wanted to stay in that house for more than a year or two. It had never been a home, just a house.

I didn’t care much for neighbours anyways, I had no business with their small talk and brunches. I had no business with the new neighbours until the day their little girl knocked on my door with a smile on her face and a pie in her hands. “Hi! My name’s Ava, and my family just moved in across the street. We baked you an apple pie!” she announced. I thanked her, and sent her off as the sun was setting. I placed the apple pie on the coffee table and let its sweet scent smother the halls of my home; from the breakfast nook to the window seat of the spare room.

I woke up to the scent of apples and fresh fallen rain, the classic recipe for a good day. The smallest things set my days on their paths. The lack of adventure that they held, left little to be enjoyed; so details like a storm or a bird’s song put my days in the right or wrong direction. I made my way down the ancient mahogany staircase that I knew so well, while the dew strung cobwebs outside my windows twinkled in the sunlight like  stars on a string of twine. I then made my way to the garden, and watered a couple of sections, as the sky had done my work for me.

The rest of my day was not so picturesque. I made an omelette and drank my tea while filling in the sudoku of yesterday’s newspaper. I devoured the second half of my Edgar Allan Poe complete works book, and drank another cup of tea. The sun had started it’s journey to the other side of the world, leaving a deep rosy sky, splashed with coral here and there. All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door; it was Ava. I opened the door to her ear to ear grin and a look of excitement. “Hello Miss! I saw that you have white roses growing out of the corner of your backyard and I just wanted to say they are so cool! I’ve never been allowed to grow my own garden and my parents are much too lazy to keep up with theirs.” She spat out. “Well thank you very much Ava. I’ve been growing the garden for almost twelve years now.” I replied. I had an idea in the spur of the moment. I was hesitant to vocalize it. “Would you like to see it?” I blurted out. Her eyes lit up right as she said “Could I?”. I nodded and led her to the rickety barn wood door.

I pushed on it lightly, and it opened with a creak. We stood in awe, eyes wide, like we were both seeing it for the first time. White roses surrounding the perimeter, and sunflowers touching the sky; it was beautiful. Ava looked up at me grinning, and I gave her a nod. She ran into the garden, and for once I didn’t care about the flowers getting ruined, as long as the garden was making someone else happy.“Can I climb it?” she said pointing distinctly at the tree. “Of course”, I smiled back. She climbed and climbed until she teetered over the fence on one of the trees branches. She looked at me, looked back over the fence, and giggled; as if she was looking at a whole new universe.

695 words.

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Just Another Friday

Prompt: Drink post

Jim was a simple man. He enjoyed his dog, his friends, and a good classic Coors light. Or at least Coors was in his opinion, good and classic. Every Friday he headed out with his friends to discuss the events of the week, and drink a few beers. This was second nature by now for a simple guy like Jim. One Friday, Jim’s friend Vincent decided to tag along for drinks. Drinks with Vincent were never truly a good time. Vincent was pretentious in all aspects of his life. He only wore pants that cropped at the ankle and used long nonsensical words just for the hell of it.

Friday rolled around and before he knew it Jim was sat beside Vincent at the bar, as Vincent refused to order anything but a margarita; with no tequila. The hours passed and Jim had ordered five rounds of shots and two of his usual. Vincent attempted to make small talk. “Jim, how are Maudie and Stephen? I’ve missed them terribly. Although you know they do shed horribly.” he complained. “Yeah they’re fine ol’ buddy they just never liked you.” Jim muttered.  “Oh Jim! How I’ve missed this banter. I don’t get much of these jokes from my usual companions.” “Vince were at the bar can you please have a proper drink or just be quiet?”

Vincent ordered a margarita. Then two. Then three. Then four. These men had never gotten along more than they did when Vincent was well into his fifth margarita. “Ive missed you so much.” teared Jim; well into another round of shots. “Ive missed you too. You may lack intellectual depth-” “What did you just call me?” he growled. “I didn’t call you anything I  just said that you lack a slight intellect that my other friends posess. That is all.” Jim staggered out of the bar the second the words left Vincent’s mouth, drinks were never truly good with Vincent anyways. Just another drink on another Friday was how he struggled to compile his opinion. It was time to go home to Maudie and Stephen anyways.

350 words

Sam and Leah’s first date

Prompt: dialogue post

He shuffled into the shop, his green rain boots leaving puddles behind him with every step. The exact same could be said for his matching coat. He looked like a husky puppy after a walk in the rain; not in a husky way though, in an aloof way. He ordered an americano and shuffled back to the table by the window. Leah walked in “Hey Leah!” he waved, embarrassingly. She smiled and sat down across from him. “Hey Sam. Quite the weather today huh?” Of course it was quite the weather. Easy for her to say she still looked put together. “Yeah the rain sucks. I mean– not sucks. Uh its raining a lot though.” Nice one Sam.

“Yeah, kind of relaxing though isn’t it?” she asked. No, in fact Sam wasn’t the least bit relaxed. “I guess. If you like rain its okay.” He didn’t mean for every back and forth they had to be painstakingly awkward, but he always replied to questions with answers that sounded like more questions. It made no sense to anyone but him. “So…….” He tried his best to bring in a new topic of conversation, “What do you like to do for fun?”. Ah, his first coherent sentence of the date so far. “I draw boats.” “Boats?” he wondered aloud. “Boats.” she replied, as if she’d never been so sure of anything in her life. “I’ve gotten quite good at them. Canoes, sailboats, catamarans you name it. ” she added. “The funny thing is, I’m a terrible artist. People seem to think I’m quite good, due to my skill of drawing boats.” Sam was speechless. Who draws boats constantly for fun? “So its fun. I guess I do it for fun then. How about you?” He had no idea what to say. His only hobby was playing the piano, as if that was even in the same universe of uncommon hobbies as drawing boats was.

“I, uh, I guess I play piano?” Sam muttered. There they sat. The coffee shop, a rainy Wednesday evening, and nothing to discuss but Sam’s cliche hobby, and Leah’s otherworldly one.

293 words

The Pond

Prompt: descriptive. writing about a landscape/painting.

The water lay on the banks as flat as paper dolls on a little girls desk. The banks engulfed the water, cornering it in long grass, willow trees, and an abundance of lillies, roses, and peonies. Lilypads freckled the surface of the water, as flowers peeked out from under them. The lilypads were grazed by the ends of the willow branches and the edges of the grass that neighboured close by, and the sky had been matched to the lilacs that grew beneath it, like the ocean blue mimicking a clear sky.

The ponds only humanly obstruction was a wooden green bridge that looked down on the water, connecting the gardens on either side of it. Somehow, the flowers had encapsulated the bridge as well. They grew on the top of its rails, as if arranged by a florist. The pond and its banks were every colour of the rainbow and more, mixed until they reached the perfect consistency; and sprinkled sparingly. Under the bridge the water went on forever, it reached the ends of the earth and formed a waterfall off the edge. The flowers stretched to the sky and touched sunsets on the other side of the world, exchanging sparkling colours. The clouds in the ponds very own lilac sky, had been unraveled and torn apart time and time again, they were twine with frayed edges.

The sunflowers and the foxgloves contested as to who could grow taller, who could reach the branches of the willow first. The trees laughed, and carried on in pursuit of bringing shade and breeze to their friends down below.