...the richest green sweeps the land with mesmerizing awe. Florals and herbs in a multitude of different colors are absolutely matchless with any other terrain. Civilians went out every few days to pluck them from the ground, and yet miraculously the soil is still giving more as they take, the petals peeling one by one as they move upwards to bloom. Over by the oceans, colored by the deepest blue, the sunshine engage in a playful dance on the surface. Within the ocean hides the shimmering scales of exotic fishes among its most breathtaking depths. The wind furiously pushes the waves, crashing into the shore, yet the ocean holds firmly, absorbing the damage in order to protect its gems stored in the cellar. Mountains, with their magnificent heights and snowy slopes, gazes down gently towards the valley below. These gracious giants surrounds the valley three quarters the way around as they were sometimes perceived as guards to the valley. A mental picture of this city was difficult to be forgotten and would be whispered with vivid description under of the breaths of the wistful tourists on their deathbeds. From the gorgeous valley bellow, lies a prosperous and bounteous city. At the edge of this city, a farmer, hidden in enormous field with hundreds strands of wheat, gladly cuts down the stalks for another plentiful year to come. At the center of the city is where the elite resides. The glimmer and gold of the greatest of gentlemen grabbed their grandest gain by the throat to supply for ten generations to come. Routine after routine, day after day, they were oblivious to the time that spent in this place, some were baffled that so much, yet so little time has passed.
Trent Jacques Hunter.
...was an archaeologist. Who was assigned to visit over the glorious land. He was a young lad with crudely curled hair and blue eyes. Eyes that weren't as piercing, but they were calm and filled with comfort. Those eyes that saw the grand potential the buildings could have been but were never fulfilled. Holes and gaps of missing history, stories of hundreds of lives that had never were able to escape their tongues for anyone willing to hear. Dents molded inwards into the rusting metal, large boulders scattered everywhere in variety of sizes slowly became overtaken by vines. Sleeping in the buildings the bodies rest while lying among the heather. Without the fear of waking them, Trent didn't bother to quiet his footsteps while he creeps into the space. In fact, he was snooping through their possessions, examining their bodies, determining who they were. The bodies themselves have already reached deep slumber. They have settle down and part their roots they have establish here, leaving here their remains. In some ways that they are here forever, in some ways that they are not.
How beautiful destruction is from afar? The rumble and tumble of the ground suddenly strike like a praying mantis capturing its prey. The silver coat flakes away revealing its true stone. The world starts to shrink to this moment and future seems so short. Aside from the struggles and flights, the most defying thing is the absolute silence, ringing in your ears.
YOU ARE READING
Short Story GardenShort Story
Stories I have left covered in dust for far too long will have a chance to rejuvenate here. I'll dedicate each chapter to one of you guys. If I made a grammatical error or something, don't be afraid to tell me. I'll be happy to fix it! Chapters and...