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The Eclectic Garden

Making a little bit of everything look just right.


The Deposit

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Sun Jun 22, 2014 12:30 pm

Okay, moving away from gardening back into a short story. This particular story is "open ended", meaning the ending is left open for the reader to interpret. I would really be interested to know what some of you think might have happened next.

Vince glanced at his ATM receipt and did a double take. He stared at it positive that he must have read it wrong, but the balance still read the same: $75,137.17. With a shaky hand he quickly put his card back into the machine. From behind him an irritated voice called out, "Come on Dude."

Vince turned to see a teenage boy in a blue t-shirt and baggy, faded jeans with a black cap sitting on his head so the bill was turned sideways. He started to apologize, but changed his mind simply because of the hat. He always hated it when guys wore their hat sideways, thought it made them look stupid. Vince turned back toward the ATM without saying a word.

He punched in his PIN number and then made his way to CHECKING ACCOUNT BALANCE. He chose to view it on the screen and waited for the display. After a few seconds the screen confirmed his account balance: $75,137.17. His mind was racing. There was obviously a mistake. He had no doubt that the hundred dollars was his, but somehow an additional seventy five thousand had been deposited into his account. He stared at the screen, dumbfounded, until the teenager spoke up once again, "Hey old man, can you hurry it up?"

Vince came out of his stupor. Old man? Did he just call me an old man? Vince was forty five years old and in good physical shape; made that way from years of working road construction. His skin was deeply tanned from the sun and a full head of sandy blonde hair hung down to his shoulders. His muscles were hard and lean and, despite the comment from the teenager, there was nothing in his six foot frame that looked like an old man. He tapped the screen to finish his transaction and retrieved his card. He turned away from the ATM and walked toward the teenager who was already making his way up the ramp. When they drew close to one another the teenager muttered, "It's about time."

On the way by Vince bumped him, giving a solid push with his shoulder. The boy tumbled and caught the metal handrail in the square of his stomach, causing him to double over. The violent jerk caused his hat to fly off and Vince chuckled when it landed in a small mud puddle. The boy recovered quickly and yelled after Vince. Vince continued to walk away at a leisurely pace. Without even looking back he said, "Looks like you could use a new hat."

Then, with a satisfied grin on his face, he headed to his truck.

Before he even got into the driver's seat his mind was back on the seventy five thousand dollars. Where did it come from? The bank had made a mistake, he was certain of that. However, it was in his account. What would happen if he withdrew it? Wasn't there something about possession being nine tenths of the law? Could he even withdraw that much money at once? He didn't know. He had never withdrawn more than a couple of hundred dollars at the time. Come to think of it, he never even had more than a couple of hundred dollars at the time. Every paycheck seemed to be already spent before he even got it and spare cash was a commodity that he seldom had the luxury of. Seventy five thousand dollars. That's a lot of money.

A movement caught his eye and he spotted the teenager in front of his truck. He was walking with his head down, staring at the soaked cap in his hands. He looked up, saw Vince and gave him the finger. Vince jerked his door open and made like he was going to jump out. The boy took off running, pushing down on a remote unlock as he fled the scene. He ran past a tall van and disappeared on the other side of it.

A few seconds later there was a squeal of tires and Vince caught sight of a car in his rear view mirror. It was a red Ford Mustang. There was a large white racing stripe across the hood and the windows were tinted black. It stopped directly behind him with its passenger side facing his truck and sat there a moment, engine revving up and down. Then, the tires started spinning, but the driver held onto the brake and a large cloud of smoke rose up and drifted right over Vince's truck. The driver took his foot off the brake and left the parking lot, squealing his tires all the way onto the main highway. He turned left and drove back by the bank. As he went by the teenager rolled down his window and, through the smoke, Vince could see the smirk on his face… and the wet hat sitting sideways on his head.

Vince shook his head as the smell of burnt rubber lingered in his nostrils. How do kids get cars like that anyways? He glanced around at his own vehicle, a ten year old Chevy S-10 pickup. It was a good truck, but it was getting old and had well over 150,000 miles on it. The headliner was starting to sag and there were a few cracks in the dash. He thought about getting a newer truck plenty of times, but there just wasn't enough money. After the divorce, there never seemed to be enough money. He survived from paycheck to paycheck, barely scraping by and, to be honest, he was pretty tired of it.

A small band of onlookers had rushed outside to see what was going on. They stopped gawking after the speeding Mustang and slowly made their way back inside the bank. Vince sat in his truck, staring at nothing in particular. Seventy five thousand dollars. That's a lot of money.

The sound of passing cars filled his ears. Somewhere, a bird chirped happily. Seventy five thousand dollars.

Suddenly, Vince knew what he was going to do. With a new found confidence he opened the door, stepped out and walked toward the bank.

Last edited: Sun Apr 17, 2016 1:30 pm

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Forgotten Treasures - The Conclusion

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2014 10:23 am



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Forgotten Treasures - Unexpected Encounter

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2014 1:23 am

Jenny put everything back in the jewelry box, closed the lid and headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She fixed a bagel to eat on the way and then picked up the jewelry box as she left the house.

When she got to the driveway leading up to the old woman's home she noticed that the YARD SALE sign was still by the side of the road. She went past the sign and drive down the short dirt road and up the circular drive, parking behind a small, green car that wasn't there before. The house itself wasn't very big. It was made out of cinder blocks and the tan colored walls were covered with pollen from the surrounding canopy of oak trees, making it look older than it really was. The fallen leaves rustled under her feet as she walked up the seldom used pathway to the front door. When she got there she pulled open the old screen door and knocked on the wooden door behind it.

It took a minute or two, but the door finally opened up and a woman in her forties with short black hair hesitantly poked her head around the corner of it, "Yes? May I help you?"

It was obvious that the woman was leery of her so Jenny tried to speak in a reassuring voice, "Hello, my name is Jenny and I would like to speak to the older woman who lives here. She gave me this jewelry box the other day and I have some questions about it."

Jenny was holding the box in her hands and when the woman saw it she rushed out from behind the door, grabbed hold of it and shouted, "How did you get my mother's jewelry box?"

Jenny was caught by surprise, but she held tight to the jewelry box, refusing to let go. There was a struggle between the two of them, but Jenny wasn't about to give it up without a fight. The other woman shouted at her again, her voice crackling with emotion, "How did you get this?"

Jenny answered back, holding tightly to the jewelry box, "Her sister gave it to me!"

The other woman stopped pulling on the box and looked at Jenny with a bewildered look on her face, "What did you say?"

"I said that her sister gave it to me!"

With that remark the other woman let go of the box. Her shoulders slumped slightly forward and tears began to form in her eyes. With a look on her face that Jenny could only describe as defeated the woman spoke again, this time in a hoarse whisper, "My mother doesn't have a sister."

Somewhat confused, Jenny asked, "Was your mother's name Sylvia Daniels?"

The other woman stood there for a few seconds, then wiped the tears from her eyes and stared off into the distance. Then, she turned to face Jenny and spoke in a more reserved and calm voice, "My name is Sarah Jennings. I'm sure you think that I am some kind of crazy woman after what just happened, but if you would just give me a chance, I think that I can explain.

"So, are you saying that Sylvia Daniels was your mother?"

"No, I'm saying that Sylvia Daniels is my mother."

"What do you mean? Is she still alive?"

"She is very much alive. She's inside right now, watching TV. Listen, I can tell that you're a little confused. Trust me, I know how you feel. How about we go inside and talk about this over a cup of coffee? I promise I won't try to take the jewelry box again."

There was something in Sarah's voice that had a calming effect on Jenny. Despite the unexpected attack, Jenny had the overwhelming feeling that it was alright to go with her inside the house. Besides, there were too many unanswered questions to give up now and the fact that Sylvia was still alive added a few more. Jenny smiled and answered with, "I think I would like that."

Last edited: Sun Jun 08, 2014 10:28 am

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Forgotten Treasures - Inside The Box

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Sat Jun 07, 2014 9:41 am

The inside of the box was lined with gold colored, satin material and it seemed to give off a faint, iridescent glow as Jenny lifted the lid. Instead of a pirate's treasure, however, she found that the box was filled with cheap, costume jewelry. It was sectioned out very neatly, with two rows of rings, a long skinny area for necklaces and three compartments that were filled with all kinds of ear rings and broaches.

She started with the ear rings, pulling each one out individually. They were all large and colorful with gaudy, fake stones. While going through them Jenny noticed that the lid of the jewelry box had a two inch wide piece of material stretched all the way across the bottom of it. There was elastic sewed into the top of the material that allowed it to stretch out so that items could be dropped inside the pocket for safe keeping. She pulled the pocket open and peeked inside. At first she didn't see anything, but then she saw something that looked like a small piece of trash. She reached her hand inside the pocket and pulled it out.

What she pulled out ended up being a small hospital armband that was only about three inches long. There was a small, metal clasp attached to one end of it and the other end had been cut, obviously done when it was removed. Sitting inside the plastic, see through band was a yellowed piece of paper. Jenny looked at the paper and read the words that were typed on it out loud, "Baby Daniels, 3-29-69, Dr. Malone, NURSERY".

On the back side of the band were the words Clay Memorial Hospital. Jenny held the small baby armband in her fingers, slowly turning it over and over while reading the words out loud each time she turned it. She calculated the years in her head and voiced what she had been able to put together, "So, Mrs. Daniels gave birth to a baby forty four years ago at Clay Memorial Hospital that was delivered by Dr. Malone."

It seemed like a logical conclusion based on the facts that had been presented, but there were so many unanswered questions. Was the baby a boy or a girl? What was the mother's first name? Who was the dad? The old woman at the yard sale had said that her sister's kids went through everything and kept the things they wanted. Why wouldn't they want to keep the armband? Maybe they didn't see it? Maybe the baby died? With questions still forming in her mind, Jenny finished looking through the costume jewelry that was in the top of the box.

There were only a couple of necklaces and broaches, but they all had the same gaudy look. After quickly looking through them she started with the rings. There were about twelve of them and she examined each ring closely, silently chuckling at some of the large, colorful, plastic stones.

She finally came to one petite, gold ring that looked different than all the others. There was writing on each side of it and she picked it up to see if she could make out what it said. The ring was so small that she had to strain to read the writing on the sides, but eventually managed to make out the letters MHS on one side and then the numbers 67 on the other. It was a high school class ring. The dates fit together, Mrs. Daniels must have graduated high school in 1967, got married shortly afterwards and then had a baby in 1969. But this raised even more questions. How could someone be unfeeling enough to get rid of their mother's high school class ring? It just didn't make sense to Jenny. She put the ring back in its place and then reached to open up the first sliding drawer on the jewelry box.

The drawer slid out easily exposing the same beautiful, gold, satin material that was under the lid. Jenny saw a small clump of balled up silver chains right in the middle of the drawer and underneath the chains she could make out the back side of a light green envelope. The envelope excited her because she thought it might give her some more clues about the owner of the jewelry box. She quickly moved the ball of chains, picked up the envelope and then turned it over. Written in black ink across the front of the envelope was the name Sylvia. She smiled to herself as she put the first name on the card together with the last name on the baby bracelet, Sylvia Daniels.

Jenny opened up the envelope and pulled out the card. The edges were trimmed in gold and there was a large, red rose in the middle of it. Across the front were the words, "To the woman I love" in gold embossed lettering. She opened it up and saw, "Happy Birthday" in big letters and then hand written across the bottom were the two words, "Love, John". She was a little disappointed that there wasn't more in the card, but at least she could make a guess at the husband's name too.

She set the card aside, picked up the silver chains that were intertwined together and slowly began to pull them apart. When she was done there were really only two chains. One of them was about eighteen inches long and very thin. The other chain was a little thicker, but it was the locket on the end that really caught Jenny's attention. It was silver, round, about two inches high and had the inscription "Mom" on the front. Jenny found the little button to open it up and pulled the halves apart.

She was surprised to find that each side of the locket had a picture of a child. On the left was a girl of about five, holding a small, white, stuffed bunny rabbit. She was wearing a pretty, pink dress and she had black curly hair that was held together with a pink bow. On the right was the picture of a boy about the same age. He was holding a red ball and was wearing a little black suit. His hair had been cut close to his head and he had a big toothy grin on his face. Jenny smiled at the pictures and then found herself wondering why anyone would want to get rid of something as precious as a mother's locket.

She slowly put the chains aside and pulled open the last drawer in the jewelry box. To her dismay, it was completely empty. She reached her hand up inside of it just to make sure, but there was nothing to be found.

Jenny sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and thought about what she had found out by looking through the jewelry box. What she knew was that Sylvia graduated from high school in 1967 and married a man named John Daniels. They had two children and at least one of them was born at Clay Memorial hospital in 1969.

Try as she might, Jenny just couldn't make herself believe that Sylvia's children would want to get rid of the things that were inside the jewelry box. How could they be so heartless or uncaring? She wanted to know more about Sylvia and John Daniels. She wanted to know why the kids didn't want the silver locket. Jenny knew that she wasn't going to rest until she got to the bottom of it and there was only one way to find the answers that she was looking for; she would have to go back and visit the old woman who had given her the jewelry box.



Last edited: Sun Jun 08, 2014 2:58 am

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Forgotten Treasures - Finding The Box

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 9:52 am

Wednesday was Jenny's day off. She worked as a receptionist at a local gym from 8 am to 2 pm and then every other Saturday from 8 am to 12 pm. The money wasn't great, but it helped pay for the boys to attend Christian school. The hours worked well for her because she had time to take them to school in the morning and then pick them up in the afternoon.

As she dropped the kids off and turned toward home her mind had a chance to shift out of high gear for the first time in days. She thought about her husband and how much she missed him. She thought about her boys and how quickly they were growing up. Then, for some reason, the image of the old woman at the yard sale came to mind. It was then that she remembered the box that had been riding around in her trunk since Saturday. She found herself suddenly interested in what was inside of it. She knew about the things that had been on the table, but what about the other items that she didn't get a chance to look at? She decided to check out the box as soon as she got home.

She carried it inside and placed it on the kitchen table. There on top was the old popcorn maker. She picked it up, examining the discolored, yellow, plastic lid and noticed that the electric cord did not have a plug on it. "That goes in the trash", she said out loud.

Next, she pulled out the pack of stationary paper and found an old, faded, sale tag on the front that read $1.00. She removed a piece of the paper out of the fragile plastic wrapping and found that she actually liked it. It was light blue with a pleasant looking picture of a country road winding through the hills. There were trees along the road with birds flying all through the air. Across the bottom was the saying THE ROAD TO A FRIEND'S HOUSE IS NEVER LONG. She placed the piece of paper back in the package and set it aside to save.

Next were the two small, porcelain looking birds. She picked them up looking for some kind of mark to indicate where they were made. One had the letter I and the other had the letter U on the bottom, but the letters looked to be hand written in black marker. There were no other visible marks, but she liked the way they looked so she decided to keep them too.

Then she found the silverware and kitchen utensils. She immediately set the silverware aside to save, thinking about how hers somehow seemed to magically disappear (where did all the forks and spoons go anyway?). The utensils reminded her of things she used to see in her grandmother's kitchen. There was a potato masher, a hand mixer and a couple of other things that she wasn't quite sure of. They were put in the pile of things to keep as well.

At the bottom of the cardboard box she was delighted to find a blue and white crocheted blanket. She pulled it out and opened up. It was beautifully made and was just the right size for covering up. It would make a perfect blanket for lounging in front of the television on a cool evening.

Jenny looked back in the cardboard moving box and saw one more thing. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that it was a jewelry box. She removed it from the moving box and sat it on the table to have a closer look. It was made out of a beautiful, light colored wood and there were two small gold handles on the sides. It had two drawers in the front which also had gold handles that matched the ones on the sides. On top of the box was a gold, heart-shaped piece of metal that bore the initials SJD in fancy script lettering.

She couldn't help but get excited about what could be inside. She placed her hands on the lid and ran her fingers around the ornate golden pieces that had been meticulously attached to the upper corners of the wooden box. She felt like a pirate about to open up a buried treasure and stared at the jewelry box for a second or two, trying to imagine what might be inside. Then, she slowly raised the lid.

Last edited: Sun Jun 08, 2014 2:58 am

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Forgotten Treasures - Life Goes On

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Thu Jun 05, 2014 10:02 am

Jenny drove home in silence, thinking about the events that had just taken place. Her mind kept going back to the image of the old woman, head hung low, slowly moving toward the house. There was a feeling of deep sadness there, a feeling that Jenny did not quite understand. She thought about the woman all the way home; the cloudy blue eyes, the deep wrinkles surrounding them, the sudden change in mood. She arrived at the house feeling melancholy and out of sorts, but there wouldn't be much time to dwell on it.

The first thing she saw as she drove up in the yard was Troy, her 14 year old son, standing in his soccer uniform, arms folded, waiting for her impatiently. Upon seeing her he immediately ran to the car. Before she could hardly get the door open he was right there beside her, "Mom, we have to be at the field in fifteen minutes. I'm going to be late for my game!"

"I thought the game was at 3:00."

"It was, but the coach called and said there was a mistake on the schedule. It's at 1:00 instead."

She looked at her watch, it was 12:45. She really didn't want to start rushing around today. "Where's your brother?" she asked Troy.

"On the computer, where else?"

"Well, get in the car and I'll go get him."

Troy jumped in and she got out. She quickly made her way up the steps and into the house. Ben was in the office on the computer. He looked up as she came in, "Hi Mom."

"Hey honey, get your shoes on, we need to leave for Troy's soccer game."

"Aw Mom, do I have to go?"

"Of course you do, you know you can't stay here by yourself."

Ben got defensive, "Why not? I'm ten years old!"

Even though she was trying to hurry, Jenny looked at her son and smiled, "I know you are, but that's not old enough to stay here by yourself. Besides, I hear they have some really good nachos and cheese at the concession stand."

The thought of something to eat helped Ben overcome his prideful moment. He thought about it for a second and then reluctantly answered, "Alright, I'll get my shoes."

They arrived at the park with only a couple of minutes to spare. Troy jumped out before the car even stopped rolling and ran to where the rest of the team had gathered on the field. Jenny watched him as he ran and then heard Ben say, "The concession stand is over there."

The rest of her day proceeded in much the same fashion. Everything was rush, rush, hurry, hurry. After the game there was laundry to do, a house to clean and Ben's overdue science project that demanded attention. It wouldn't have been so bad if her husband was around, but he was gone for a month of training with his new job as a heavy machinery diesel mechanic. She was, at this point, living the life of a single mom and as all of the responsibilities that come along with it quickly closed in around her, the thoughts of the old woman at the yard sale were pushed to the back of her busy mind.



Last edited: Sun Jun 08, 2014 2:58 am

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Forgotten Treasures - The Beginning

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Wed Jun 04, 2014 10:22 am



Last edited: Wed Jun 04, 2014 2:53 pm

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A Lesson From The Garden - part 2 of 2

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 9:55 am

He found it about a month before, one little leaf poking out of the ground at the end of the bean row. He started to pull it up, but it looked like a squash plant, so he left it where it was. He checked it almost daily and the little plant seemed to take on a life of its own. Before long it had put out large green leaves and Preston decided that it was a pumpkin. Then, it started branching out with long, wispy tendrils that reached out and took hold of the fence. One day he looked in on it and a beautiful white flower had opened up. There, attached to the flower, was a small green fruit shaped like an hourglass. He knew then what it was; it was a gourd.

Disappointed, he thought about pulling it up. It was, after all, in the bean row, but he couldn't bring himself to do it because he enjoyed watching it too much. So, he left it where it was and every day since then he had rushed out to the garden to check on it. He spent a lot of time manipulating the vines so they would grow up the fence and it had practically covered every square inch of it. He was amazed how something that started out so small could grow so quickly.

Preston was still admiring the gourd plant when he felt something brush against his leg. He looked down and saw Misty. Her small hands were holding onto the chain link gate and her face was pressed up against it so that one eye was staring through a rusty link. She only said five words, "I like your garden Daddy," and then she looked up at him and smiled. Then, as quickly as she was there, she was gone.

Preston watched her skip away and a disturbing thought crossed his mind. Misty was, in fact, just like his precious gourd plant. The plant came up unexpectedly; so did Misty. The plant showed up in the wrong row; Misty showed up in the wrong part of his life. He was disappointed when he found out what the plant really was; he was disappointed when he found out his wife was pregnant with Misty. His heart melted as he thought about Misty. Was he treating this gourd plant better than he was treating his own daughter? How much time had he actually spent with her? How often had he really listened to what she had to say? Was it possible that he was holding a grudge against her for coming along so late in his life? Was he actually blaming her for some of his marital and financial problems? The more he meditated on it the more he shamefully realized that it was all true.

He thought a moment and then looked back toward the flowing plant at the end of the garden. He had been so wrong about that plant. In a matter of weeks, with a little care and nurturing it had become the centerpiece of his garden. What if he would have pulled it up when it was just coming out of the ground? He would have never gotten to watch it grow or see it bloom. He would have missed out on so much.

What was he missing out on with Misty by acting the way he was? What would happen if he spent some quality time nurturing and caring for her? A sound shook him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Misty running across the yard with her arms held straight out to the side of her body. She turned and waved, "Come play with me Daddy."

Preston looked at his garden, then back at Misty. He could almost hear the gourd plant silently pleading with him to step inside the gate. There was a moment of indecision. Then, somewhere in the back of his mind a distant voice spoke to him, "Go play with her."

He spoke out loud, in answer to the voice, "But what about the garden?"

He was still thinking about it when Misty called out to him again, "Come on Daddy, play with me. Please?"

She stopped right in front of him, arms still extended, making bubbly airplane noises. Then, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his legs and said, "I love it when we play together Daddy."

Suddenly, the garden didn't look so enticing. With a slight tremor in his voice he said, "So do I Honey. So do I."

And this time... he really meant it.


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A Lesson From The Garden - part 1 of 2

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Thu May 08, 2014 9:34 am

Preston Walters rolled his eyes and sighed heavily as warm air started coming from the air conditioning vents. This always happened when he was in the car line and it was one of the reasons that he hated picking Misty up from school. He shut the air off and pushed down on the electric window buttons. The front, passenger window glided down with ease, but the other three stayed put. He slammed down on the buttons with his fingertips repeatedly, hoping to get some kind of reaction, but the windows didn't budge. By the time he got to the pick-up point he was soaked with sweat and totally frustrated.

Misty saw his car and started jumping up and down, waving excitedly. When the all clear signal was given she ran to the window and shrieked, "Hi Daddy!"

In a sour voice he uttered, "I'm hot. Just get in the car so we can get out of here."

She opened the door and jumped in, throwing a pink book bag in the floorboard. Totally oblivious of his bad mood she said, "I like it when you pick me up Daddy."

Preston looked her way, forced a smile and lied. "So do I Honey. So do I."

Misty talked non-stop all the way home, going into great detail about every minute of her day. Preston simply drove and half listened, offering an obligatory, "Really?" or, "You don't say?" during the rare quiet moments. When they reached the house Misty jumped out as soon as the car stopped. Before he could even get out of the car she was bursting through the front door. As he watched her run inside he could hear her small, excited voice, "Mommy, Mommy! Guess what I did today?"

Preston sighed and leaned over to pick up the book bag.

Later on that day, while walking to the garden, he relived his drive home with Misty. He didn't like the way he felt toward his six year old daughter, but he just couldn't seem to get over it. Misty was their third child and the only one that wasn't planned. In fact, she was a total surprise, coming nine years after Tiffany and eleven years after Jack, now a senior in high school. He thought about having one child ready to graduate while another was just starting school. He suddenly felt tired… and very old.

He stopped at the gate and looked out onto the garden. This was his favorite place to be, his silent escape from life. He spent at least thirty minutes a day here pulling weeds, picking off bugs, looking for new growth and just enjoying the time outside. It always helped him get his mind straight. His eyes moved to the end of the garden. There, completely covering the fence was the plant that had become the central point of his backyard getaway.


Last edited: Sun Apr 17, 2016 1:25 pm

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Short Story Intro

Category: Short Stories | Posted: Wed May 07, 2014 10:28 am

Even when I was younger I enjoyed reading short stories. I was that nerdy kid in high school who looked forward to the literature assignments, especially when they involved short stories. There was a point in time when I thought that I might want to pursue a career in writing, but that dream dissipated long ago.

Still, once in a while I find myself attempting to put a short story together. Starting tomorrow I am going to post a story that came about a few years ago when I walked into the garden and found a plant that I did not recognize coming out of the ground at the end of the bean row. I know it doesn't sound very exciting, but my experience with that little plant prompted a story that I just had to put to paper. Honestly, it almost wrote itself.

It is a short story, but it is just a little too long to put into one post, so I am going to break it up into either three or four posts depending on how it all works out. I know the length will probably discourage some from reading it, but I hope you take the time to do so. I will be on the lookout for other garden related short stories to post. If anyone has any suggestions I would love to hear from you.

Last edited: Wed May 07, 2014 6:00 pm

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