it will take all your breath

[deadpanlife]

It is misty tonight, as it has been lately. Sleep eludes you tonight once more, and so here you are in the town square. You don't expect company so late out, but this time when you arrive you catch sight of a head full of red flowers, like what so many of the inhabitants wore. There's someone there, thin and small and dainty, sitting by the fountain. They're -- you can't tell if it's a man or the woman, you can't see their face very clearly right now -- even dressed like a lot of the other residents; colourful robes and wooden sandals.

You ask if they mind the company, and the voice that answers sound masculine. No, not at all, he says. So what's a stranger doing out so late at night, you ask, and all you get in response is a simple "I could ask the same of you", and you find yourself going quiet.

There's a long awkward silence, which you spend shuffling in place at where you're standing, and the silence is broken by a crisp sound. He's eating something, you think. Probably fruit -- this town was famous for its peaches. You listen to him bite into the presumed peach for a while, before he finally speaks again.

"You know, they found a little girl dead here a few days ago," he began, and your blood runs cold in an instant. "Throat and belly slashed open. You wouldn't happen to have known her, would you?"

You try to keep your voice from trembling when you answer "no".

"Oh. Shame. She was a sweet girl, you know." Another bite of the peach. "Bright as the sun. Hair like a phoenix's tail. Got a good eye for flower arrangement too -- alstroemeria suited her really well."

There's something about this entire conversation that makes you deeply uncomfortable, and you want to end it, but you can't just leave. Instead you ask how he knew her, since you definitely haven't heard him around here before.

More munching, and then a pause for a swallow, you guess. "I spoke to her just a while ago." And you take that as a cue to get the hell out of there, but you've barely managed to back away three steps when you feel something wrap around your feet. You look down to see thin vines emerging from the ground, and for how weak they look their grip is tight. You can't move without risking falling over.

The other person stands up and you see his silhouette approaching. A sweet scent drifts in, almost intoxicating, and you freeze when you notice the smell of forest on him too. No no no this cannot be the Blooming One, the Gardener, this isn't happening --

But it is, and he makes it known by stepping far too close to you, his small lithe frame filling your personal bubble. The eyes that look into yours are a bright red and might have been pretty in any other circumstance than this; right now they look more like they're trying to burn away your very soul.

|ying is a terrib|e thing, chi|d
now what excuses do you have for me?

You try to open your mouth to say something, anything, but in a second there's a hand around your neck. Fingers press into skin; they look so delicate that they couldn't possibly exert this much pressure, but they do. The smell is almost suffocating now, or perhaps you think that only because the hand around your neck is threatening to choke you.

I was being rhetorica|
I understand that you are not one of my fo||owers
but this town is one of mine
sure|y you know my precepts?

You do. You do, you can't get away from it in a place like this where the Gardener is so dearly beloved, alongside Dusk and Frogs. But you had thought the Gardener was also a busy god, and you did not believe he would seriously pay personal visits of any kind. This was not how you'd like to be proven wrong.

here's a quick |esson, then
you are a|| my chi|dren
if Dusk and Frogs is the mother of the wor|d, then I am the father of those who |ive within it
and I am generous with my gifts of |ife, though I don't expect a|| of you to fo||ow me
different strokes and a||
but
I do have fo||owers
and among them are the weak and young
my be|oved f|ower chi|dren
you understand that you ki||ed one of them, yes?
surely you aren't so b|ind and dumb that you don't know what the f|ower wreaths they wear mean, yes?
and I can't say I condone harm befa||ing any of them
|east of a|| from some upstart who doesn't understand one simp|e
basic
thing

He pulls you down closer to him by your neck, and his voice, already seething and veiled by a thin veneer of pleasantries, takes on another edge to it. His words are dripping with poison to match his sweetly toxic smell, like they're trying to burn past your skin and bones and seep into the very cracks of your soul.

Your life is a privilege, kid.
Just like everyone else's.
What I give, I can also take back.
And you?
You don't have that right.

-- And suddenly you can breathe and you are almost relieved, except then he pinches your nose and you have no choice but to open your mouth or you'll run out of air. In a single swift movement he shoves the peach pit in his other hand into your mouth, then tits your head to force you to swallow. You can't stop yourself and you're gasping and choking and wheezing when he lets go and steps back. He takes a moment to breathe in deep, inhale exhale, and when you get a good look at him he's smiling, as if he wasn't a pit of pure anger and vengeance just a few moments ago. You are unsure whether you prefer this seemingly pleasant visage over the earlier fit.

He turns around on his heel and makes a move to walk away. You consider retaliating, but your feet are still bound to the ground and you know it's a terrible idea, anyway. Before he disappears into the mist, he leaves some final parting words:

I hope you |ike peaches, chi|d

You merely stare after him, and a part of you desperately wants to believe that this was all just some nightmare, what just happened, but the vines tell you that no, this was real. There's a sharp pain in your gut, rapidly spreading to everywhere else, and you feel as though you are bursting at the seams --

You do, in fact.


No one asks where the peach tree in the town square came from. Nor do they ask why the flowers are so very red.