Poison

three shot

Garden

I walked along the cobblestone pathway, my bare feet making no sound against its hard surface. I let my fingers graze along the flower petals, all of them so bright and beautiful. Their colors were vibrant with life and beauty, calling out for something to just touch them; though it seemed I was the only one that could.

The garden was silent, not even the wind visited this place much. Sometimes I would occasionally here the buzzing of an insect, but that noise didn't last very long. I was used to the silence though. My father rarely ever came out of the house, he couldn't quite enjoy the beauty like I could. No one could enjoy the beauty like I could for that matter. It was something so enticing, everyone wanted to be able to reach out and touch it and smell the sweet flower's scent, but I was the only one cursed enough to be able to.

I spend most of my time in the garden, I even have a hammock between two trees so I can sleep here at night. I couldn't tell you the names of the flowers and the trees in this garden, that's something my father would have to do. I know all of their smells by heart, and I could name every single color in the garden. After all, I've lived in this garden for seventeen years now.

I could here the trickling of a fountain, meaning I was getting closer to the center of the garden. I quickened my pace slightly, though I had all the time in the world to get there.

I had never seen any of my father's colleagues, sometimes I would catch a glimpse of them though. All of them were old, older than my father at least. He said they weren't allowed to see me, he said they would never leave if they did. I never understood that, maybe it was something only a person who lived outside of this prison could understand. That would never be me.

I stopped when I reached the center, a small smile gracing my pale lips. You would think, that in all my time I spend outside, I would at least be slightly tanner, but it seemed quite the opposite. My father always said my mother was the most beautiful woman to ever walk the Earth, I had seen a picture or two. I think I looked more like my father though with my blonde hair and blue eyes. My mother had brown hair and green eyes. I wish I looked more like her.

The fountain gurgled with water, its grandeur slowly now starting to fade. Cracks ran along its upper bowl that was held up by nothing more than a thin pillar of marble. In the bottom, was the most majestic flower in the garden. It wasn't overwhelming with colors never seen before like most of the other flowers in the garden. No, its pedals were the purest white I had ever seen. My father had created it the day I was born. It needed extreme amounts of water to live, so he had planted it in the fountain. Even if the fountain were to die, the flowers would most likely live on. After all, nothing in this garden was normal.

I sat myself on a once elaborately decorated marble bench, now worn down with age and time. Moss grew in between the cracks that had been there as long as I could remember. Sometimes I would try and scrape the moss off the bench, but it shriveled under my touch, not even giving me a chance to try and scrape at it.

I have grown up around these flowers, since the day I was born. Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if my mother was still alive, would she have let me become like this? She had died at my birth, my father had no mercy on me and she wasn't there to protect me. The garden was my play spot, the flowers were my friends, my siblings. But they weren't the kind of flowers that you buy at a shop for the person you love on valentines day; not that I knew what love was. No, these were man-made creations with a deadliness no person should ever create.

My father was a scientist no doubt. He created every single plant in this garden. He told me some people considered him a mad-man, creating things so deadly not even he could get close to them once they were created. I could see him sometimes walking around the garden with a mask over his face just so he wouldn't breathe in their scents, just in case. His fingers were gloved, and he protected all open skin. Sometimes I wish I was him.

I had grown around these flowers though, their poisons seeping into me and intertwining with my very being so slowly, I couldn't even realize it. Their poisons changed my very life, a being like a flower, kind of.

I was simplistic, not personality wise, but the way I looked, the features on my face. The poisons drained me of any color, making my hair a bleach blonde and my eyes a very light blue. I think my father mocks me by making me wear a white dress, a pure white dress. Just like the flower from my birthday. My breath is like a perfume, smelling like the flowers in the garden. A sweet smell for something not so sweet.

I considered myself cursed, my father said I was blessed, though he'd never wish the same fate on himself. He always said to something along the lines of, imagine an army full of people like you. Something to that extent. I told him I couldn't imagine it, cause I didn't even know what an army was for. When he explained it to me, I felt sick to my stomach. He was a twisted man.

My worst memory in this place, was the first time I saw a butterfly. It was so amazing, just...fluttering there. It flew down towards me, landing on my nose, I must have only been five. I started laughing, it was one of those times now I wish I couldn't breathe. The butterfly fell to the ground, dead. Now my very touch could kill, let alone my breathe if you got to close.

I was a poison, a poison that shouldn't exist.

I heard the sound of footsteps slowly heading towards me. I looked up, only to have my eyes filled wide with fear. That wasn't my father, or one of his colleagues. It was a boy.

He reached out to touch one of the flowers, causing me to shout. I watched as he withdrew his hand , a sigh of relief escaped my lips. I'd never seen a human die, and I'd like it to stay that way.

"Don't touch the flowers." I whispered, standing up from the bench.

"But you touched them." He countered, tilting his head to the side. He walked towards me, causing me to take a few steps back. I couldn't let him get to close to me, I didn't want to kill him, "Sit down." I gestured to the bench. He obliged, thankfully without questioning. I sat on the far side, as far away as possible.

"What's your name?" He asked, turning to face me.

"Namine, and yours?"

"I'm Roxas."

--

And done!

This is my first story in 1st person

and a different style of writing for me

please R&R and tell me what you think!