I wrote this for my creative writing class, and it needs to be edited. Any suggestions/comments/corrections would be great!
It was a sweet, pungent felicity that invaded my nose as I strolled through the garden. The scent of it all was nearly overwhelming, when coupled with various other sensations that accompanied a walk here. It was a tiresome over stimulation of sight and smell, but I reveled in it nonetheless.
The springtime bouquet of flowers nestled among their branches were music for the eyes. Radiance seeped through their petals, saturating the air around them with an iridescent mist that feathered out to anything and everything around it. Vibrant stems of a deep olive green and roses the ripest shade of scarlet swallowed me up as I journeyed along the soft earthen path.
Nothing will ruin this day, I swore silently to myself. No matter how long it’s been, no matter what lies in the past or the future, nothing will ruin it.
A part of me found this hard to accept. Part of me embraced this reassuring sentiment, while another, stronger part clung to a bitter pessimism.
Disregard it.
I lifted my eyes to scan the horizon, searching for a white picket fence. It was too soon, however, so I lifted them further, surrendering myself to the quiet blue sky above my head, despite any other inhibitions.
It was funny; I could walk through this garden blindfolded, I had tread this path so often as a child. Time spanned across years did nothing to dull the familiarity of the trek, and I smiled in delight with this realization. Upon coming here, I had feared that my absence would leave me feeling like an outsider, no longer welcome in this place I had once called home. I was beginning to feel these fears were fruitless. My steps grew steady and sure as my self was submerged into the place of my upbringing.
When the time finally came for me to exit the garden, I did so with what I hoped to be a renewed interest and yearning for what lay ahead. My pace, which had lulled to a sluggish stroll while encased in such delightful surroundings, quickened. My footsteps graced the long supple blades of grass, crushing them in haste, eager to reach my journey‘s end. Finally, the quiet padding became a perceptibly louder thud, thud as my feet met gravel. It was at this point that I slowed, for I had come close, now, to my destination.
The house of my childhood loomed closer on the horizon, expanding in my field of vision as I approached. Soon enough I could distinguish the rough surface of the white paneling, and see where the paint was peeling off, patches of light cream only discernable from the rest of the house if viewed up close. From afar, it was perfect. Like everything else in my life.
It wasn’t until I reached the front door, however, that I recognized the smell of smoke. I wondered idly if someone had lit fire to the pit in the backyard, but silently, vehemently, declared it unlikely- Its’ use was generally reserved for the late autumn and winter months.
So it was with a nervous fervor that I lifted the iron knocker and let it loose on the worn front door. Twice I repeated the task, then waited.
And waited.
I waited nearly a minute in vain hope, until I finally came to realize that no one was coming. A peculiar sense of foreboding overcoming me, and I began to pound frantically on the door. The beating peaked into a furious crescendo, until my arms could no longer stand the strain. Gripping the handle, I pushed as hard as possible against the door, exhorting as much force from my admittedly small body as I could manage. To my surprise, after much less time than I had expected, the door gave.
Out of the now open doorway came a curling pillar of dark grey smoke. I coughed and choked, taken off guard as the smog infiltrated my lungs. I backtracked a few feet until my hand met the porch railing. There I remained for a few moments, breathing hard, trying to expel as much smoke from my lungs as I was able.
I was admittedly disoriented, unable to focus clearly on what needed to be done next. A part of my mind was still denying the situation. It’s a dream, I shouted to myself. Nothing more.
Nothing more.
My body seemed to waste no time waiting for my slow brain to catch up, however. Disregarding my confusion and blatant refusal to accept what I saw, my feet ushered me through the front door and towards the parlor. As I proceeded, the smoke thickened, making my eyes water furiously. Coughs continued to rack my chest with an increasing intensity, when, from the parlor, I heard a faint cry.
“Help,” exclaimed the weak, feminine voice.
I froze, taken aback by how pathetic her voice sounded. So unlike what I was accustomed to. A deep, ruthless satisfaction infiltrated my soul as what I wanted to do and what I knew I should do fought vigorously for domination.
You want this, I chastised. You've wanted this for a while, now, and you know it. Don’t slip back into that happy state of denial like before. Give into your most primal desires.
Don’t, said my conscience, the persuasive little beast. You know what the consequences will be. Think of what happened last time…
What seemed like an endless war, however, became resolved all too soon with another impulse, uncontrolled by my conscious self.
“Mother!” I yelled, unwittingly. “I’m coming!”
I brought my shawl over my mouth to help filter the air, then ran through the doorway and into the parlor, when I saw it. The fire.
It ran around the walls of the room, flames licking the floral print wallpaper and leaving ashes in its wake. My mother was laying down in the center of the room, unmoving.
Gathering what was left of my strength, I braced myself against the searing flames and ran towards her. Grasping her under the arms, I half-carried, half-dragged her out the front door and onto the lawn. I lay her down on the grass, then brushed the air out of her ash-covered face. Not knowing what else to do, I pat her face lightly, willing her to regain consciousness.
“Please, mother,” I whispered. “Survive. I need you.”
The only thing? That wasn’t true. As I watched the color fade from her cheeks, I rejoiced. Over, over, over. All over. Her endless torments, overbearing sentiments, controlling nature… gone. As the life was sucked directly from her soul, I felt a strong sense of relief. I was secure in the knowledge that, when I left, I wouldn’t have to lie to myself anymore. This realization was unbelievably freeing.
