A gentle breeze blew through the silent garden, rustling the leaves on the trees as it went. The Garden looked beautiful, but in reality it was a horrifying place. Well at least in Susan's mind. Just across from the Garden lay the cemetery with its field of never ending tombstones. It was as if the garden was mocking the graves with its beauty, mocking her.
Any eerie silence sat upon the enclosed area. Not to be mistaken with a peaceful silence, though. This silence was the most deafening kind, the one that will make you want to rip your ears from your head. The kind that screams out all your regrets and sorrows. Like an ever-present ghost that you can never seem to escape. It will follow you around until your dying day, when maybe, just maybe, the loud silence of life will finally come to an end.
You cant say the same thing for Susan Pevensie, though. She tried her hardest to block it out, but ended up blocking out the wrong things. In a result, it just got louder. And now, after the funeral of her loved ones, she sits in that garden. Grieving. Breaking. Hating. Regretting.
With a shaky sigh, she reached over and plucks a flower from a bush. It was blue like her eyes. Edmund had loved her eyes. He didn't like it when she wore eye makeup, he said her eyes were beautiful enough without it. With this thought, everything came rushing back. Her family, her life, Narnia, Aslan, all of it. It was too much. Despite how spacious the garden was, she felt like she was suffocating. Like someone was squeezing her chest. With a great intake of air, she let out a miserable sob. It was loud and long and empty. But she wouldn't feel better once she stopped. The despair would continue on until death came for her.
All the sadness turned to anger. The sobbing reduced to silently crying. The tears burned her face just as the pain seared her heart. It was felt liquid fire running down her face. She clenched the flower in a death grip and the stem soaked up the sweat from her hand. One by one, she plucked a petal from the flower and discarded them carelessly on the ground. Each petal was like a memory, a regret. Being so conceited. prick. Forgetting Narnia and Aslan. prick. Turning her back on her siblings. prick. The memories faded from her mind and her heart felt slightly lighter. The wind quickly dried her eyes and all that was left were icy tear stains. She regained her steady breathing the best she could and looked down at the flower. It was nothing but a stub attached to a stem. Now she realized that this was her. Without her looks, she was nothing. Without its lovely blue petals, the flower was nothing.
The flower began to slide from her hand. She released it and it fell ever so slowly onto the ground. And there lay a torn apart forget-me-not on the stone path of a church's garden. Like Susan, it was forgotten.