Well here's the fifth story in that collection of short stories. I'm more excited as I get closer to finishing editing all of the stories. So I thank everyone for all of their much needed critque.
The endless garden gets three more black flowers
I could not believe it. What was in front of me was unreal. My mind simply refused to accept it, thinking there must be some mistake. I looked down at the piece of paper that the employment office had given me. I looked at the street, the house number, and I knew that this was the place.
Paradise manor, made and owned by, Alexander Thrush. The greatest man the world had ever known. He was so wise and adept at the magic arts that there was nothing that he couldn’t do. And because all the things he did were not cheap, he was one of the wealthiest men ever.
Ever since I was a little boy I had dreamed of going to the Thrush estate. Now that I was sixteen and ripe for employment I would finally get my chance.
I swallowed as my heart pounded. I walked past the perfect lawn and hedges, to the beautiful front door. I ran the doorbell, and a beautiful song rang through the house. I waited for a butler to open the door, but when it opened, Alex himself was standing there. He looked quite handsome with his dark brown hair and his suit and tie. He was only in his twenties but he had the air of someone older and experienced.
“ Oh, Mr. Alex!” I stammered, shaking.
“Ah, the new help has arrived.” He said, speaking with a hint of a musical tone. “Come in” I stepped in, looked around, and was completely overwhelmed. People who had been inside paradise manor said it made the Taj Mahal look like a shack. This was a huge understatement.
On the walls were magnificent tapestries, woven with master hands, gorgeous silk, and gold. A massive chandelier was hanging near the front door, with so much crystal that the ceiling was covered in a spiraling rainbow. What I noticed the most as he led me through the house was the woodworking. The several staircases that were going up and down, beautiful mahogany handrails were polished to a shine. Plus several flawless woodcarvings that looked real enough to come to life.
This man, I thought as he lead me into a smaller, less elaborate room, has more money in one room then the city makes in a year. “Would you like something to drink?” he said, sitting down in a chair. “Tea, coffee, water?” Not wanting to be rude, I sat down opposite of him and asked for some tea.
He moved his hands in a few jerky motions, then watched as a cast iron tea pot came floating through the door, followed by two cast iron cups. Again his hands moved, and the bottom of the tea pot became red hot. A few more hand movements and the teapot poured the steaming tea into a cup, which floated over into my hand. He laughed when he saw the completely bewildered look on my face
“I’m sorry if that was too much, but I can’t help showing off to my gests.” He gently grasped the cup out of mid air and pointed to a nearby coffee table. The floating teacup got the message and nestled itself next to my arm on the table.
“I do hope you like the tea.” He said, sipping some. “I made it myself.”
“It’s very good, sir.” I said, taking a sip as well. It was good, as well as unique.
“Oh, none of that ‘sir’ stuff.” He said, waving his hand in the air. “If you’re going to be working for me, we are going to be friends, not stuffy ‘co-workers.’”
“Ok.” I said tentatively. “But what work am I going to be doing?”
“Ah, yes.” He said. “The reason you’re here. As you may have noticed, I have a grand collection of wood, thanks to my father, who stayed with me for a long time.” His face darkened. “But he has passed on, leaving me alone in this big house.”
“You’re not married?” I said, surprised.
“Na, too many choices. Anyway, this house is collecting dust faster than I can clean it, so I need some help.”
“A maid?” I said, beginning to understand why he greeted me at the door.
“Room and board will be provided of course. There are a ton of rooms that I’m not using.” He sipped his tea. “But if I were you, I’d do my own cooking. Tea is the only thing I can make without a poisoning risk.” I smiled. He sounded like a fun person to work for.
“I can cook and clean.” I said
“Good!” he said, setting his tea down. “Then let’s talk paychecks. What would you like to get paid?”
As it turned out, he was a fun man to work for. He was kind, witty, and eager to help with whatever he could, except in the kitchen. Things got even better when he learned I could draw. He started me right away on adding to the house with paintings and drawings. So now three days later, I found myself doing a portrait of him, while he took a very distinguishing pose.
‘I don’t know how you do it.” He said struggling to keep as still as possible. “You draw so magnificently, and I can’t draw to save my life.” I opened my mouth to answer but at that moment the window behind me shattered. A man wearing a black ski mask jumped through the window, pistol in hand.
“Hands on your head!” he shouted, and we both obeyed quickly. He then whistled, and two more men in black ski masks jumped through the broken window.
“Alright you!” The last one to jump through shouted with pistol also in hand. “Take us to where you keep your magic!” Hearing this, my boss sighed.
“Oh come on!” he said angrily. “I already dealt with two of you last week.”
“They were not good enough.” The other man said in annoyance. “Now start moving.” So Alex got up and started walking out of the room. I followed closely behind, and the gunmen followed closely behind. “This has happened before?” I whispered to him
“Yea, it happens every once in a while.” He said, totally unconcerned. “Nobody can rob the house, so everyone tries.”
“Then you have a plan?”
“Yep just keep walking.” He said as he led the four of us into the basement that he asked me on my first day to never go into. It was a flight of stairs that led down for a long time, until we came to a steel door. My boss stopped, made some very quick and complex hand movements, and watched as the door opened.
He walked thorough, as did I. I looked at the steel door, and noticed the word paradise was engraved in the door. Then the gunmen pushed me along, and I looked at the room we entered. Only it wasn’t a room. It was like being outside, only the sky was white. And on the ground were flowers. Red flowers, pink flowers, tiny flowers, mammoth flowers, flowers as far as the eye could see. Everything else was white and endless, so they really stood out. I just stood there looking out, mouth open. I’m sure the gunmen were doing the same thing.
“Come on!” said Alex, snapping me out of it. “It’s this way.” So we all hurried to catch up with him. I forgot that my life was in jeopardy. I forgot a lot of things. The bliss that was in my mind was peaceful and infinite. We followed Alex for a long time, during which I noticed that no two flowers were the same. There were some that probably don’t exist, but they were definitely all different in one way or another. Yet they were all beautiful, and the sight and smell of each one pushed me into a deeper and deeper bliss.
Then Alex stopped, and a dull thought prodded my mind. Why are there so many black flowers here? They were all still different, but the black stood out. Alex called to the gunmen, who drifted over to him, deep in bliss as well. He told them to stay still, and they did so. His hands moved rapidly, and then he pushed down on each of their heads. When he pushed, they shrank away. They kept shrinking, and changing ever so slightly, until three more flowers were added to the endless garden. They were the same color as the ski masks.
Satisfied, Alex directed me back to the door. The moment I went through, thoughts started coming back into my head. It felt like hanging upside-down, when all the blood rushes to your head. It made me dizzy. But Alex kept leading me, up the stairs and back into the less fancy sitting room. He told me to sit, which helped my head. After sitting opposite and inspecting me for a moment, he sat back and nodded.
“You seem to be alright.” He said getting some tea the old fashioned way.
“That was amazing!” I told him. “What was that?” He calmly sipped his tea then said, “did you know that paradise is a Turkish word? They were very into gardens. But it turns out that paradise is bliss. The greatest thing that a genius could have.”
He continued sipping his tea, calm as ever. “It helps me with inspiration, and helps me sort through my thoughts. The magic was an unexpected byproduct.” He then chuckled. “It’s funny. I have all the wealth in the world and more, but nobody tries for any of it. They all think I’ve got a statue somewhere that grants magic, or a stick I wave around.” He finished he’s tea, then got up. “Well, I guess I need to find another window.”
He was at the door when I called “Can I go back?”
He stopped, pondered for a moment, and then said, “I wouldn’t recommend it. Even if you are careful, too much bliss can rob the mind of thought or intelligence. It’s best savored when it’s sparingly experienced.” He smiled, then left, leaving me to ponder that and to sip some magnificent tea.
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