The Garden (413 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 2 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Kiddo (View user info) at 2005-10-31 08:47:11 EST
The Garden
The three men emerged from the deserted house onto the patio, and surveyed the garden.
Jeff Berkley and Mario Gonzales, who had worked for most of their lives at Chappell gardening services, both groaned out loud.
"Jesus Christ," said Jeff, shaking his head.
Mario closed the door behind them. "How long we supposed to take to get this shit done? Man, I'm looking at a week minimum."
Chappell gardening services offered domestic and commercial general garden maintenance. Their services included lawn care, paving and hedges. Chappell's often contracted out to estate agencies eager to improve the gardens of properties about to go on sale.
"Contract says we got one day," said Jeff.
The third man's name was Richard Leaver and he was nineteen years old. He'd spent most of the summer working at Chappell's, saving his pay checks for the forthcoming first year of his engineering degree. Tanned, tall and skinny, he felt shy around the men and tended to let them do the talking.
"Son," said Jeff, nodding at the garden, "This, in the gardening business, is what is referred to as a goddamn catastrophe."
The property was large, the garden extending some twelve hectares in back of the house. The house and garden had stood empty some twelve months and the garden had run wild. Standing on the patio the men were faced by a wild, green sea of vegetation. Rye grass rose to their waists. Privet, oak, redbud and mulberry trees all locked in the desperate struggle for light and were themselves choked by black, twisting creepers. The trees had been allowed to grow wild for so long that their branches were entwined overhead like snakes, creating a canopy over the garden and throwing it into a deep, emerald shadow. Two paths made of paving stones receded into the gloom and soon vanished altogether.
"Guess that's what's referred to as the natural look," said Mario. He poked a cigarette into his mouth, accepted a light from Jeff, and blew a thin plume of smoke at the garden.
"How you want to do this, boss?" he said to Jeff.
The man scratched his chin. "How many trimmers we got in the truck?"
"Two or three. Should be enough fuel for today."
"Any trees we take down we're going to have to carry out of here. I say we spend the morning using the trimmers, clear as much of this grass away from the around here as we can. Maybe work up those paths. Dump everything in the back of the garden. Sweep off the patio."
"Sounds good to me," said Mario. He squinted at the teenager. "Well, what you waiting for, Ritchie Rich? Man said to go get the trimmers."
Richard left the men on the sunny patio and trotted back through the house to the van parked in the driveway. He hauled open the sliding door and retrieved the men's backpacks and the three industrial lawn trimmers mounted on the inside of the van. Dumping the equipment on the driveway, he slammed the door shut and locked it, pocketing the key. He was about to shoulder the equipment when he noticed a couple of teenagers sat on the pavement in front of the house, watching him.
He nodded at them, proud suddenly of his tan and the equipment he was bore.
"You going into that garden?" one of them said. He wore a plaid shirt several sizes too large and a scruffy pair of high-top sneakers held together with duct tape and he fingered a skateboard at his side.
"Yep," said Richard. "This place is going on sale. We got to tidy things up round back."
He watched the boys take in the silver van with 'Chappells Gardening Service' emblazoned across the side.
"You know about the dog?" said the other one. He was taller and skinny, with long hair tied back into a pony tail.
Richard started arranging the equipment so that he could tote the whole lot back to the garden in one trip.
"What dog?" he said.
"There's a dog back there in that garden."
"Yeah?" said Richard, "Where'd it come from?"
"Didn't come from anywhere," said the skinny one. "It's always lived in there. The man who used to live here got his throat tore out by it. That's how come the house is for sale." He spat and squinted at Richard. "One time the police was here, looking for it, but they never caught it, though. Said it escaped over the wall. But that's bullshit. That wall's too high for any damn dog."
"Uh huh," said Richard, looking at the boys. "Tore his throat out, did it?"
The younger boy had been nervously spinning the wheels of his skateboard, and now he piped up. "Did too. Ask anybody around here. None of us are allowed in that garden."
Richard glanced at the house, then back at the boys.
"Then I guess you've seen it?"
"Sure have," said the taller one. "We see it all the time." He grinned at the younger boy, who spun the wheels of his skateboard again.
"Well then, if the police couldn't find the dog, how come you two get to see it so regularly?"
The tall boy looked at him. "Same reason it hasn't starved to death yet," he said, grinning at Richard. "'Cos we're the ones been feeding it." He pointed at the rows of houses lining either side of the street. "You see any cats in this neighbourhood? Seems every time there's a full moon, cats go missing around here."
The younger boy ducked his head, furiously spinning the wheels on his skateboard.
Richard stared uneasily at the two boys. He was about to say something when a roar cut through the house, coming from out back. Hastily he shouldered the equipment and trotted back inside, leaving the two boys still sitting on the pavement, watching him.
"It's a big damn dog, mister," the younger one called after him. "You take care today."
Richard found Mario impatiently drumming his finger against the patio door frame. Jeff was standing on one side of the patio, speaking into his mobile phone.
"Kid, how long does it take you to get the stuff?" said Mario, helping him to unload the equipment.
"I was talking to some kids outside," said Richard. "Did anybody say anything to you about a dog?"
"What dog?"
"A couple of kids outside told me there's a dog in here somewhere."
"Yeah?" said Mario. He glanced at the garden. "Kid, this place is so wild, could be elephants in there. Why, what's the matter, you nervous?"
"No, it's just - these kids were saying-"
Mario clapped the boy on the shoulder. "They're just fucking with you," He said. "Nobody's lived here for months. The garden's walled off. There's no damn dog. In there,"he motioned towards the garden, "there ain't anything but the three of us and them elephants."
Jeff finished on the mobile phone and stood gazing moodily at the garden. He turned to them with a sour expression.
"That was dickhead," he said. The man he'd been speaking to on the mobile phone's name was Andrew Dickson and he was their supervisor. "Says there's a pergola at the end of the garden. We're supposed to find it and clean it up."
"Where is it?" asked Richard.
Jeff made an irritated gesture at the garden. "Fuck should I know? Somewhere out there. Get your stuff on, we haven't got all day."
Quickly Mario slipped on his overall and Richard followed suit. When all three were ready, they shouldered one of the lawn trimmers and a canvas backpack and Jeff started down one of the forgotten paths.
As luck would have it, the three came across the wooden structure after a few minutes struggling along the overgrown path. The pergola was a rotten wooden building of parallel colonnades, supporting an open roof of girders and cross rafters. The white paint was flecked and peeling where it existed at all and everywhere the wooden boards showed through. The structure was tightly surrounded by the rampant garden.
The men got to work immediately. The roar of the trimmers was a welcome relief after the uncomfortable silence emanating from Jeff.
They set to work trimming the lawn surrounding the pergola, revealing a stone lattice patio engulfed by grass and weeds. They pruned back the trees at the perimeter of the clearing and then pressure cleaned the patio. At a signal from Jeff, all three switched off their trimmers and they broke for lunch.
The day had turned into a scorcher. Richard stripped off his t-shirt and lay down on the hot stone tiles. He looked up at the hot, blue sky, and smiled to think that next year he'd likely be spending most of his time indoors, in front of a book. This time next summer he'd probably remember days like this with envy.
He closed his mind and let his mind drift. Birds chattered and called to each other overhead, unseen amid the tangled trees. But no sound of the outside world intruded on the men; no sound of cars passing, no aeroplane crossed the sky above the clearing. They might have been the last three men left alive in the world.
They fetched their lunch pails from the bags and equipment piled on the edge of the clearing. Jeff took shelter from the sun in the shade of the pergola, Richard sat cross-legged on the warm stone paving still strewn with the grass they'd cleared.
On the edge of the clearing, Mario swore loudly.
"What's up?" said Jeff, his voice muffled through a mouthful of sandwich.
"Can't find my goddamn lunch," said Mario, picking his way through the bags. "I'm damn sure I brought it with me."
He swore again and kicked the canvas bags at his feet. "Must have dropped it on the path somewhere. I'm gonna go find it." He stepped out of the clearing and onto the meagre path that led back the way they'd come.
For a while they heard Mario fighting and swearing his way along the overgrown path, until once more the clearing was filled only with the resonance of the garden.
Jeff sat ox-like in the shade, his eyes fixed on the ground before him, methodically working his way through his lunch. Richard lay stretched out on the paving stones, his back itchy from the cut grass and his eyes screwed shut against the sun.
Then Mario screamed.
"Fuck was that?" said Jeff, putting down his sandwich and getting to his feet. "MARIO!"
Without waiting for a reply, he took off down the path, with Richard close behind him.
"MARIO!" Jeff roared again.
As if in answer, Mario screamed again, closer this time. Jeff broke into a run. A moment later he stumbled over something in the path. Behind him, Richard stopped and picked up one of Mario's heavy work boots. The two men looked at each other.
Then Jeff began to chuckle.
"That son of a bitch," he chuckled. "MARIO YOU ASSHOLE, COME OUT HERE!"
His shout vanished into the garden. Richard turned the boot over in his hands.
"Son of a bitch is just trying to scare us," said Jeff, standing with his arms akimbo. Richard squeezed past him and moved further down the path. Mario's screams had sounded authentic to him. He thought about the teenager's warning.
A few metres away he spotted a gap in the thick vegetation where Mario could have left the path. Richard inched forwards, bracing himself in case the man leapt out of the bushes at him. He glanced into the gap and froze.
Mario lay on his back. One of his arms was wedged underneath him and his head was thrown back and his throat had been torn out. Blood pulsed still from the bloody soup underneath his chin and blood drenched his bare chest and stained the tops of his overalls. Already a couple of flies buzzed over the gore.
Jeff appeared beside Richard, glimpsed the corpse and had time to turn away before throwing up.
Richard backed slowly away from the corpse.
"Jesus Christ," gasped Jeff, wiping his mouth. "What did that?"
"Do you have your phone here?" Richard said. "Your phone?"
Jeff nodded dazedly and patted the pockets in his jeans. He looked up. "I left it with the rest of the stuff."
"We need to get it."
"Hell with that - I'm getting the fuck out of here," said Jeff, starting towards the house.
"Jeff wait!" shouted Richard. "We should go back and get the trimmers and phone for help. It's too dangerous trying to get back to the house by ourselves."
"I'll take my chances," said Jeff, lumbering down the path towards the house.
He hadn't gone more than ten metres before the dog attacked him. Jeff screamed as the animal sprang from the garden, landing on his chest and throwing him off the path into the bush, out of Richard's sight. An instant later Jeff's screams were cut violently short.
Richards's heart was beating so hard that he could barely breathe. As quietly as he could, he retreated back towards the pergola. Once he'd gained some distance he straightened up and fled down the tangled path, over roots and fallen leaves, branches tearing at his clothes and scratching his face. With every step he felt the animal landing on his back, felt its jaws closing around his throat.
He burst into the clearing and fell onto the men's packs, scrambling through the pockets for a mobile phone. He found nothing. Sobbing, he turned and faced the edge of the clearing where the path led off into the bushes, felt behind him for one of the lawn trimmers and brought it around and in front of him.
Nothing happened. The path remained empty. The sun shone down on the clearing. Richard rubbed the sweat from his temples against his shoulder and stared out at the garden.
Cicada's once more resumed their relentless whine. Birds chattered and called to each other overhead, unseen high up in the trees. But no sound of the outside world intruded on him. He might have been the last man left alive in a lush, encroaching world.
User Reviews
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-11-02 16:31:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2005-10-31 14:03:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-10-31 13:48:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
NICE
Submitted by ozzy (user info) at 2005-10-31 11:21:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This wasn't too bad. Fairly well written, but way too long for the purposes of Uber.
Basically you have a story where only one thing happens (a guy has his throat ripped out by a dog), but you took about 2000 words to say it.
If it's going to be that long, at least have that happen a few times and then have some weird arse ending.
+2 to encourage you to write more. This was way better than 90% of the shit on Uber.
Submitted by CHR15 (user info) at 2005-10-31 09:43:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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