| Fantasy Fiction posted July 15, 2019 | Chapters: |
Prologue -1- 2... 
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The adventures begin!
A chapter in the book The Gardens at Weatherbury
C1 - Meeting the Management
by Y. M. Roger
| Background After accepting the position as Groundskeeper (see author notes), Nicholas discovers the Gardens are anything but 'usual'... |
We stood in front of the garden shed to which Sir Phillipe was handing me the key.
“Mr. Thrasher cannot answer questions.” He seemed to study me as he spoke. “You must figure things out for yourself.” I think those eyes laughed at me. Again. “Previous Groundskeepers have left notes in the shed’s small cabinet inside - perhaps they will help you.” He raised an eyebrow at my eagerness to accept the key. “You have one month to prove yourself, young Nicholas. Good luck.”
“I’ve got this, Sir Phillipe.” I grinned, because, seriously, how hard could it be to water plants? “No worries!” I hollered at his back as he walked away.
I turned to unlock the door.
But the door was gone. There were only long branches of a flowering bush where the shed had been. I checked around in either direction but still saw no shed. I walked around the bush. But the farther I went, the more I just kept walking, following the bush – never making it back around.
Hmmm.
Like any good outdoorsman, I turned and retraced my path. Within but three or four steps – way too few, I think – I was back to where I had started. I took stock of my surroundings. Yes, this was where the shed should be. I peeked inside the thorny, flower-covered branches. There, just out of reach, was the door!
I shook my head and readied the key as I stepped through the branches.
Although they appeared small, those thorns found purchase on every inch of my clothing, rendering me motionless within seconds. I began trying to escape which, of course, compounded my captivity. I was about to holler for help when…
“Seems ya didn’t use the password.”
It was a man’s voice but it was…smaller.
“What?” I froze, responding to the voice.
“The password.” I heard rustling behind me that continued past me along with the voice. “Tis Rosalind’s job to protect the doorway, lad.”
A man no taller than, perhaps, my thigh stopped in front of me – hands on hips, white beard braided in three, and yellow stocking cap angled to expose a mostly bald head. Those piercing green eyes pinned me with a gimlet stare as he continued.
“So, what’s the password?”
“But I don’t ha–”
“Didn’t G-Trash give it to ye?”
“G-Trash?” I thought hard. Then, grinning, I managed a hand wiggle. “I have Sir Phillipe’s key.”
“Rosa? Lad’s got the key.”
The whole bush shook but didn’t let go.
“Where’s George-the-Trasher?”
Realization dawned. “Uhmm…he got a severed package?”
His eyes narrowed. Then, he tossed his hat in the air, hollering, “He’s gone! Everybody, G-Trash is gone!”
A cacophony of laughter, music, song, and very odd noises erupted around us. The thorns disappeared, and I stood, unscathed, facing a now-dancing gnome.
Suddenly, he stopped, retrieved his hat, and placed it on his head, offering his hand up to me.
“My name’s Constantine.” He shook with a surprisingly firm grip. “What's your name, Groundskeeper?”
To be continued…
“Mr. Thrasher cannot answer questions.” He seemed to study me as he spoke. “You must figure things out for yourself.” I think those eyes laughed at me. Again. “Previous Groundskeepers have left notes in the shed’s small cabinet inside - perhaps they will help you.” He raised an eyebrow at my eagerness to accept the key. “You have one month to prove yourself, young Nicholas. Good luck.”
“I’ve got this, Sir Phillipe.” I grinned, because, seriously, how hard could it be to water plants? “No worries!” I hollered at his back as he walked away.
I turned to unlock the door.
But the door was gone. There were only long branches of a flowering bush where the shed had been. I checked around in either direction but still saw no shed. I walked around the bush. But the farther I went, the more I just kept walking, following the bush – never making it back around.
Hmmm.
Like any good outdoorsman, I turned and retraced my path. Within but three or four steps – way too few, I think – I was back to where I had started. I took stock of my surroundings. Yes, this was where the shed should be. I peeked inside the thorny, flower-covered branches. There, just out of reach, was the door!
I shook my head and readied the key as I stepped through the branches.
Although they appeared small, those thorns found purchase on every inch of my clothing, rendering me motionless within seconds. I began trying to escape which, of course, compounded my captivity. I was about to holler for help when…
“Seems ya didn’t use the password.”
It was a man’s voice but it was…smaller.
“What?” I froze, responding to the voice.
“The password.” I heard rustling behind me that continued past me along with the voice. “Tis Rosalind’s job to protect the doorway, lad.”
A man no taller than, perhaps, my thigh stopped in front of me – hands on hips, white beard braided in three, and yellow stocking cap angled to expose a mostly bald head. Those piercing green eyes pinned me with a gimlet stare as he continued.
“So, what’s the password?”
“But I don’t ha–”
“Didn’t G-Trash give it to ye?”
“G-Trash?” I thought hard. Then, grinning, I managed a hand wiggle. “I have Sir Phillipe’s key.”
“Rosa? Lad’s got the key.”
The whole bush shook but didn’t let go.
“Where’s George-the-Trasher?”
Realization dawned. “Uhmm…he got a severed package?”
His eyes narrowed. Then, he tossed his hat in the air, hollering, “He’s gone! Everybody, G-Trash is gone!”
A cacophony of laughter, music, song, and very odd noises erupted around us. The thorns disappeared, and I stood, unscathed, facing a now-dancing gnome.
Suddenly, he stopped, retrieved his hat, and placed it on his head, offering his hand up to me.
“My name’s Constantine.” He shook with a surprisingly firm grip. “What's your name, Groundskeeper?”
To be continued…
 Recognized |
#219 2019 |
'The Gardens at Weatherbury' is a collection of 500-word chapters about young Nicholas' continuing adventures as Groundskeeper to the unique gardens at the fantastical Weatherbury Estate. You can find the Prologue - begun in a Chapter Contest in June - in my portfolio (it, too, is only 500 words, folks!). ;)
CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Nicholas (narrator) - young boy (current age 17), telling of adventures since accepting Weatherbury's Groundskeeper job at age 14.
Sir Phillipe - owner of Weatherbury Estate
George Thrasher - former Groundskeeper, employment terminated by Sir Phillipe in Prologue
Thank you so much for reading me! ;)
Image of 'Secret Garden Door' from Pinterest [www.pinterest.ca]
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Nicholas (narrator) - young boy (current age 17), telling of adventures since accepting Weatherbury's Groundskeeper job at age 14.
Sir Phillipe - owner of Weatherbury Estate
George Thrasher - former Groundskeeper, employment terminated by Sir Phillipe in Prologue
Thank you so much for reading me! ;)
Image of 'Secret Garden Door' from Pinterest [www.pinterest.ca]
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