It felt like centuries had passed unfairly, under her closed eyelids. Everything beautiful, just and true had long passed and been replaced by the cold metal reality of modern times. Warm golden Sundays with laughter, tea, and friends, gone, save for the fleeting glimpses held in paintings and prose. What made these people forsake those happy times? Julie knew the answer, and it made her sick to think of it, to think of that time. Still, she clung to what little happiness she could and driving the awkward tool into the soft ground she overturned the dirt, her face looking grim.
It had been unfair, what they'd done to her, but it was her rule to never think about that in the garden. She was haunted enough by unpleasant thoughts during the night after the warm sun went down and the darkness brought by night obscured any pleasantries or hopeful feelings from the daytime. For some people, the night can hold hidden excitement -- unknown surprises e.g. a present that is submerged in a bag of paper and ribbon. For others, the darkness just provides concealment for evil to lurk and blend, like a suspicious box left on your doorstep, or a closed door in an ominous setting. She shoved the thought aside with the same steely determination that had carried her through to this life.
Pushing aside the dirt she gently lowered a small white cube into the hole she'd dug. She placed the dirt back in the hole, covering the cube. She patted the ground and set to placing the next hole a few inches over. By the time she was done, the sun was setting and it was time to get inside. Wiping her forehead with her arm she pushed the curly mess of hair that had fallen down into her face while leaning over. She wiped the dirt off her tools and placed them in her garden basket to be carried into the basement for storage.
Tonight, she thought, I'm going to read a book, have a glass of wine and relax. Entering her bedroom with her Bible she sat on a soft chair that sat low in the corner and had a small table she could set her drink on. She gently opened the front cover of the book and turned each page carefully over. It was over 100 years old, being one of the only physical paper books she could get her hands on. While it was extremely well preserved, it still had a fragility that that made her handle it punctiliously.
Flipping through the pages she couldn't seem to settle on any one chapter to start with, her mind distant and blank, a feeling of dissociation weighing over her. Continuing to empty her glass, she started to feel heady with the taste of wine on her tongue and she closed the book rubbing her hands on the cover. Moving her hands over the spine she noticed a lump the piqued her interest and brought her back to the present.
....to be continued
