Of The Doctor’s Garden

Genre: Mystery/ Fantasy

He rather liked his garden, it was calming, to sit in the leafy shade, watching the breeze sway tree branches, it was calming, in exactly the way a storm calmed just before. This, he imagined is how it must have felt for the pilots who flew high in the skies and had the vantage point to see the earth in all its glory and then drop nuclear bombs on it. The swaying branches dropped leaves as if in commiseration;

“Wounded by the wind the trees wept dead leaves”

Yes, a storm was coming and he was brewing it. He plugged in a pair of headphones, they fit snugly over his ears and music trickled into his head as if he had sub-woofers directly in his brain. Rock music no less, no wonder they called it the devil’s own, the beat seemed to invade your very chore and take over you. He closed his eyes and gave himself to the music, nodding to the infectious rhythm. Everybody wants to be a rock star, or at least live like one.

He must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes the sun was much lower in the sky and the temperature had noticeably dropped. Were he a lesser mortal he would have shivered but he was cut from a different cloth, and there had been no left over fabric. It could be said they had broken the loom, and executed the seamstress after he had been sewn. He chuckled silently to himself as he visualized himself as an all-encompassing fabric cloaking the entire world in darkness. He had never been one to be moderate, he operated in the realm of the extreme, because otherwise what was the point.

He got up from his reverie and carelessly brushed away the leaves from his coat, with hands that left smudges of dirt; gardening was dirty business one really had to get down to earth and dig deep; from the dirt you were born to the dirt you will return, to bloom again. He looked at the freshly covered patches he had dug earlier, he had dug twelve, but two were still yet to be filled; he would leave it a task for another day. At this rate he would need a bigger backyard soon, he had already helped himself to his neighbour’s  dog and garden plot, after all his neighbour no longer needed it. What’s his name, the neighbour, could not even remember his name, had been like that pesky ubiquitous mosquito, buzzing in your ear;

“Oh you want to sleep let me sing you a lullaby, oh, you want to just relax let me sing you a soothing symphony, are you just gazing at the moon, let me serenade you with the beautiful fruit of my vocals; Oh you are gardening let me____”

And that was how he had become the first to be planted, the first to sprout and soon he would be the first to bloom. That was the thing with mortals they were resilient, they bloomed where they were planted, even in the harshest environment you would find a plant blooming; defying all reason and logic; it was beautiful. Its pity a flower’s beauty is lost on it, it has no eyes, it cannot see itself and no one is kind enough to hold a mirror next to their favourite flowers, nothing blooms faster than a flower admired.

Mortals have such a toxic admiration they see a beautiful flower and they pluck it so they could admire it in a favourite vase and yet just succeed in watching it wither and die. Couldn’t they have just admired it from the garden, or a pot plant? Some things he could never understand, just like their need to possess things in order to be happy.

The possession he understood was of a different sort though, he had possessed a few souls careless enough to dabble in realms they did not understand. Would you reduce your lifespan for possessions and status? The answer should be a clear no, because life is precious, but believe it or not, quite the number are willing to trade their life for fortune and fame, to be rock stars.

He had recruited a number of people to help him distribute flyers for his business, he called himself; The Doctor.

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The front part of his house had been converted into a waiting area like a doctor’s waiting room and there would be a receptionist soon, business was booming; he could not keep up with the increased volume of calls and consultations. His latest recruit X had been quite the catch, he was influential and came from a royal lineage, a shame they had paid more heed to wealth than to their heritage and now X was indebted to him; when he would have been one to save the world; he would help brew the storm that was coming. After the storm, all this world would be a beautiful garden once again like it had been, in the beginning.

Without realizing it he had walked round to the front of the house and was now gazing at the street, watching a young couple arms linked; walking past his gate, he marveled at the purity of young love, and was about to turn back and walk into his house; until that is, he noticed that the young man’s lady friend; in her left hand, she held a single red rose delicately by the stem…

He waved at them and cheerfully accosted the young lad;

Hi there young man, what a rare beauty you have there; if you would like I can show you a flower that’s more worthy of her radiance, a purple rose, it’s in my garden…

The young lad hesitated, although his lady had taken a step towards the gate.

Oh do come in and I will even give you a vase for your rose you don’t want it wilting before you get home now do you?..”

He opened the gate for them and they hesitantly followed him down the path to the garden, again like sheep; to where two new garden patches lay; dug open____

That would make today 12, the magic number, a wizard’s dozen, not a bad day’s gardening……

He whistled to himself a nursery rhyme he once heard from an old friend;

Reaper Reaper Quite the creeper How does your garden grow?

With neighbors, strangers stopping by And pea pods all in a row

The End

~B

My BlogBattle Entry for this week.

Continues the story The Doctor if you want to play catch up you can read;

Of Needful Garden

Of Needful Things

The rhyme at the end of the story is from  Sarah in comment to a twitter thread which the character in this story is based.

Of Interludes In The Changing Lights

  Genre: Mystery

It just had to be a blazing hot day how fitting, as if he needed anything else to not go his way. The past couple of days had been so cold, everyone swore that the winter season was here. When he had left the house in the morning, he had paid no mind to the weather report when they said it would be a sunny, hot day with a chance of rain, they were after all always wrong fifty percent of the time.

Today would be a cold day, just like yesterday and the day before yesterday, and the day before that.

He was dressed in a heavy woolen three piece suit, perfect for a cold winter’s day. His suit was a bit threadbare since he had been rather abusing it wearing  it every other day but people could tell he came from money or at least that he used to be. He liked to think of himself as the prodigal son, one day his father would let him come back home and money would no longer be a problem again except how to spend it.

The weatherman had been right, the sky was clear and the sun was bearing down on him with impunity of a one squashing an insignificant ant. The sun could do as it pleased, it could kill him as it obviously was trying to do. He was sweating profusely but refused to even so much as loosen his tie, after all they say “a gentleman knows no weather”, and a gentleman’s armour was his suit. He was not really a gentleman but appearances where everything, you become what you seem.

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He stood at the traffic lights controlled intersection, with a pile of flyers in his hand, trying to look important and when the traffic lights turned red and the traffic stopped he zipped from car to car and knocked at the windows and tried to hand the people in the cars his flyers.

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Some drivers would not even spare him a glance as if they were totally engrossed with watching the traffic lights so that they could speed away, away from him as soon as the light turned green

Some drivers would make that hand signal that meant “I don’t have” and emphasize that with a shake of the head to say no. They probably thought he was asking for money, like a common beggar as they refused to even make eye contact with him. Other drivers would just roll down the window and press a handful of change into his hands and wind up the window, he was quite affronted by such a blatant display of pity. They pitied him, did they know who he was, what his story was or even, that his father probably owned half this city and yes when he was back in the family fold he would pay them back.

Sometimes he managed to hand the flyers to the drivers or even passengers if any windows were open he would just throw the flyers into the car. To his dismay after all that effort, some people would through the flyers away like they were not worth the paper they were printed on.green.jpg

He tried to memorize each face behind the wheel, he was very good with faces, and when the traffic lights turned green, he wrote down number-plates of all the cars whose atrocious behavior he deemed offensive. Yes, he would pay them back each and everyone of them, he was a man of his word after all which is why he was out here handing flyers.

Well that was not exactly true he had  thrown away the stack of flyers but they kept coming back like a bad penny and the last time they had carried a warning which he felt was rather ominous. The Doctor was not the type of person one tangled around with.

He took a look at the flyers he was handing out, The Doctor claimed he could

Bring back lost lovers
Remove unwanted persons
Give good luck
Make you rich quick quick
And charms for any ailment imaginable….

 

 

And here X was busy spreading the flyers to lure people into The Doctor’s fraud schemes. If he had a choice he would be doing something else but he had no choice, he bore it, he was a gentleman, right? Even if The Doctor was a no goo____

He didn’t finish the thought as a cold, large drop of something landed on his head, first he thought a bird had done its business right above him, but there was another followed by another and soon it was torrent of rain. Just his luck rain, the weatherman was right again, he would have to call it a day as cars would now just speed past him and they did even obey the traffic lights when it rained. A little bit of rain and suddenly all the rules of the road went out the window, maybe rain made people insane, who knew.

As he was walking away, a car sped past a red light swerving  too close to the curb splashing water from a puddle all over him, soaking his suit through and through, even the flyers he was holding got wet. A few paces down the road, his spirits slightly lifted when he passed the car which had splashed him stopped by the traffic police who had arrived to bring some sanity back on the roads.

The driver was being given a ticket for some traffic violations, X hoped that the ticket was a hefty one, karma right? Bad things had a way of happening to people who got on the wrong side of The Doctor.

Maybe he wasn’t such a fraud, after all, and somewhere not too far from there, The Doctor was peering into a strange glass and muttered  to himself in that hypnotic silky voice “yes, yes, yes you begin to learn my dear X” and he laughed.

~The End

My #BlogBattle entry themed Ticket

The story continues from the last time here

~B

 

Of A Feathery Affair

Genre: Comedychicken.jpg

He brushed off a feather from his once immaculate pinstripe suit, it was worse for wear, the suit not the feather, the feather was from a chicken that had decided to make a nest of his suit jacket, the chicken had taste, it was after all expensive tailor made apparel with a design too simple to be anything but expensive.

He was really in the dog house now, actually, technically it was the chicken coop. His girlfriend, had kicked him out over a slight Valentine’s day misunderstanding, she wanted to go out on a date, he forgot it was Valentine’s, she expected an expensive gift, he thought it was the thought that counted and besides he was broke, little things like that. He tried to tell her she was over-reacting and that maybe it was hormones and asked if she was on her monthlies, he probably shouldn’t have said that cause that was when she went ballistic. He begged she was relentless, definitely hormones.

Long story short she said he could sleep in the chicken run with her retired hens. She bought them at a discount from an egg farm and retired them one by one for dinner every other day. That was part of what had caused their misunderstanding, he had complained about eating chicken again saying that if he took another bite of chicken meat, feathers would sprout from his ears and he would start clucking, in hindsight it was not the wisest thing to gesture rudely at her with a chicken leg while saying so. She threw him out but kept the heart-shaped lollipop he brought her, that meant she loved him he knew it. All she needed was time and she would see that what he really needed was to simply take a bath, he was beginning to smell like chicken droppings that’s why she would not let him in the house but he could bath, he could change clothes if only he hadn’t let her start a huge bonfire with his clothes in the backyard, but the wrath of the woman had needed appeasing.

At least she fed him, well she said that she was feeding the chickens but who would give chickens a glass of warm milk and toast, probably the oat porridge was for the chickens it was lumpy and tasted horrible but the chickens seemed to love it. How did he know the chickens loved it? Well they scraped the bowl clean didn’t they or maybe after a week in the chicken run maybe he was going a little bit crazy how could one not get crazy with the incessant clucking and squawking  of the chickens not to mention they sometimes pecked at his fingers and toes which would seemed like big fat juicy worms to the hens.

Every morning he would plead with her, “How can I go job hunting looking like this? Can you at least  talk to my father tell him I gravely ill and he will give you money then we can split fifty-fifty

Talk to your father yourself!” she would retort as she shook her head and walked away.

Go away!” he yelled at someone who kept ringing the bell at the gate, he tried to ignore them till they started honking their horn making the chickens screech ever so irritatingly and for peace of mind finally went to find out what the racket was about. It was a motorcycle delivery man for a courier service.

“I have a package for one Mr Xinyori Mari”

“That’s me” he replied

“Please sign here Sir”

He reached into his pocket to get a pen and instead found an egg there, for half a second he had the absurd idea maybe he had laid an egg. He signed for the package with an X and inspected it, half suspecting it to be from his father but there was no addressee. He looked  up to ask who it was from but the motorcyclist was gone, funny he hadn’t heard him ride off or anything but he was gone, as if vanished,  it made the back of his neck crawl..

He ripped open the package and in it where flyers, the very same flyers he was suppose to distribute but had thrown away, there was a post it note with the following words neatly scrawled:

Deliver your part of our bargain  or The chickens will come home to roost

~The Doctor

The End

My #blogbattle entry this week themed feather

And so the tale continues ……….

~B

 

Of A Needful Garden

Genre: Mystery/crime

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The garden was coming along nicely. He found it therapeutic, to spend time pottering amidst the plants, although he cut a rather grim figure. Despite the midday sun, blazing, in all its fury, he wore a heavy robe, with the hood drawn up obscuring his features. He had a tiny garden fork he was using to weed the garden and turning over the soil it helped with aeration he had read in a Home & garden.

He paused to wipe sweat from his brow, using the sleeve of his robe, that’s when he became aware of the dog barking. The neighbour’s dog was always barking at people, though never at him, it tended to keep away from him (he had his suspicions that the dog was rabid but even then, it knew better than to trifle with him) and chasing random cyclists if the gate was not shut properly.

Once he had cornered the owner to tell him “Your dog has been chasing a guy with a bicycle” The man had the impunity to reply that “First of all the dog is called Danger, secondly Danger does not have a bicycle and thirdly, if Danger had a bicycle, obviously he  can’t ride lacking opposable thumbs and so forth.
The man was never seen again, soon after that, a new pod appeared in his garden. Which is why he was now paying attention to the barking dog, he was now its new owner of sorts, he had a curious habit, you see, of taking in strays and making them indebted to him.  He had even altered the sign at his gate to read,

The Doctor of Needful Things
Beware of Danger

Danger was barking at two young gentlemen standing by the gate. One of them was holding a rock evidently meaning to throw it the dog.
I would not recommend you do that” he said peering over the gate. The two men were startled, they hadn’t seen him coming, no-one ever did.
I.. er… am sorry, Sir, the gate has no bell and we tried shouting, I was simply going to bang the rock against the gate. Now that you are here could you spare us a few minutes of your__.”
He held up his hand quickly silencing the lad. He had heard enough to judge them to be sales men of sorts, it takes one to know one after all
Whatever you are selling, I do not need, neither do I have the disposable income__
Sir, we are not selling anything. We just want to__
Do not presume to interrupt me when I am talking, I was also going to add, all my bills are paid up, I even have a valid TV license,” then he cleared his throat and continued in a more reassuring tone “Now however if I can help you gentleman with anything. I would be happy to oblige what do you wish for.
The two gents looked at each other, then the other one, who had been silent throughout spoke up.
Sir we are your neighbour’s last living relatives and we have come to check up on him, we talk on the phone but he has missed several family dinners, he never used to do that and we were hoping if you had seen him lately”

Why didn’t you start with that, come in, come in, he has been doing a bit of growing, I’ll show you.
They followed him round the back, to the garden just like lambs.

Later, much later, after he had finished with the ridges of the two new mounds, the exact shape and size of the two gents, he watered the two new pods that had sprouted in his garden. People who needed things from him just like people who displeased him had a habit of winding up planted, in his backyard. He brushed dirt from his hands and nodded slowly to himself;
“This year, there will be a good harvest.”

~The End (for now)

My  #BlogBattle Entry this week  to celebrate one year anniversary….. an edited post from my archives

~B

Of A Message in a bottle

Genre: Mystery

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“Hello it’s me”

She had dialed the number a thousand times and hung up a thousand times always before it had started ringing except for the last time when it rang and rang and went to voicemail.

This time it got answered on the first ring.

“Hello”

A deep unfamiliar voice answered,  she almost hung up but she took a steadying breath, she had rehearsed this conversation many times in her head so she decided to proceed as scripted.

“Hello it’s me. I was wonder___”

Hello” the voice interrupted her, “if you would like The Doctor to divine your name please specify

“Hello, it’s Me.  I was wondering if after all this time you’d like to meet. To go over everything, They say time is supposed to heal you, but I aint___”

Hello, if you are in need of healing The Doctor is good at counseling, therapy and meditation you can talk about everything life the universe and its mysteries shall I schedule an appointment

“Hello, can you hear me, I been dreaming___”

Hello The Doctor is a dream interpreter too and dabbles in astrology and other arcane arts, do go on.

“Hello from the other side___”

Hello” she was cut in again, “Séances, clairvoyance and contact from across the veil of mortality is conducted only on full moon after a non-refundable cash deposit.

The conversation was most certainly not going the way she had anticipated it to go but she decided to try and continue one last time.

“Hello, I must have called a thousand times___”

Hello, is it me you were looking for?

hello-is-it-me-youre-looking-for-lionel-richie-t-shirt

“Oh I terribly am sorry” She finally admitted “I think I dialed the wrong number, I had just called to say… I love, no erm I mean I just called to say hello to a friend”

Do not be sorry, I absolutely understand what it is like to be young and in love, I was once, a long time ago.” The deep voice was soothing like something ancient, wise and all knowing. Listening to it made her feel relaxed and trusting, wanting to lay bare all the secrets that weighed on her soul. “You did not call the wrong number, I presume you meant to speak to Xinyori, I am currently in possession of his phone.

“Yes, but we all just call him X, well everyone does except for me, I have never called him before, I met him once, briefly on my first day of work but I knew___” She put a hand to her mouth, to stop herself from talking, she felt a warmth in her cheeks and could not believe she was blabbing away, to a stranger no less.”

You are in luck; we have in stock a bottle of love portion, really strong muti, a sip and the object of your heart’s desire falls hopelessly and helplessly, head over heels in love with you.

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“But, I could never do that!” she exclaimed, “I want someone to love me, because they love me, not because of some portion. Besides I have heard such stuff makes them lose their will and personality and other unexpected side effects and its permanent right? What if I decide, I no longer want an enchanted lover?”

Ah, I see your concerns, I also have a bottle of another type of muti, very powerful herbs, this one gets rid of unwanted people, and just one drop, one small sip, and they will sleep and sleep forever

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“That’s a bit extreme, you are beginning to scare me” She said but in truth she was not scared not even a little, she was if anything curious and surprised at herself for having continued this absurd conversation.

Well you could__

“Or could just leave a message” this it was she who cut in.

That is what I meant to say if you had let me finish. I was saying you could leave a message in a bottle, I will pass it along I expect your friend here shortly

“Yes I’ll leave a message” this time she felt a little uneasy as if she her strings had been pulled just like a puppet. She shrugged the feeling away “Please tell  X to call me back I miss him, wait do not tell him the last bit just tell him to call me back, thank you.”

That’s perfectly fine. I will pass it along, have great day Gloria

“Wait, how did you know my name?” she asked but he had already hung up.

She thought about calling back but decided for a Friday the 13th she had had enough freakiness; she crossed herself and whispered a prayer for the protection of her soul.

Caller ID is a wonderful feature, he thought to himself chuckling, as he hung up the phone. Oh what sheep people were, a lost flock looking for a shepherd with answers and direction.

There was a knock at the door.

“Right on time” he muttered. “Coming.” He yelled.

“Hello my man X” he said, opening the door. “Come in, come in, I have been expecting you. First thing, first I have something for you” and handed him a bottle, he had grabbed from a shelf full of an assortment of bottles.

A bottle with a paper lodged inside and sealed at the top.

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X unstoppered the bottle and a familiar voice filled the room.

Please tell X to call me back, I miss him” and then silence. He pulled out the paper inside and the same message was written on it, in a neat handwriting and signed Gloria at the end.

“What’s this?” he asked

“A message in a bottle.”

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~~

My entry for the #blogbattle this week themed bottle

A continuation of sorts previous story here

~B

Ps yes incase you are wondering, I might have listened to Adele’s new song  Hello as I wrote this and I had lots of laughs reading the #hellochallenge on twitter.

Fun freaky fact if the first of the month is a Sunday, the thirteenth day will be a Friday, you are welcome.