Hey guys, I've been on this whole "The Secret Garden" thing lately, so I started writing this. It's a 4 part story, starting with this part. Enjoy, and remember, Review!
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"Dickon! Ready or not, here I come!"
Mary opened her eyes, she was in the Secret Garden. At seventeen years of age she still loved a good game of Hide-and-Seek. Colin and her uncle were in London for a meeting, Mrs. Medlock was in a happy retirement in a set of apartments given to her by Lord Craven, and Martha was head of housekeeping. Mary had made sure that Mrs. Sowerby and her children had been moved to the Misselthwaite and they now roamed all over the now happy house.
Mary turned around. There was the pool, and the place Colin had first walked. Over a ways was the statue of a grumpy old man that Mary loved to make fun of, and there was the place where Mary's aunt had fallen to her death, all covered in roses.
Mary walked forward and around the tree stump, towards the swing, searching for her dearest friend. Mary and Dickon were even closer than her and Colin. Mary secretly loved Dickon. She loved his slightly-to-large mouth that was always smiling, his rusty-red hair that she always itched to brush out of his face, his round, blue eyes that could see straight into her soul in a glance. His laugh was infectious, his smile made her world go 'round. Mary felt that Dickon's friendship was the most important thing in the world to her. She valued it more than her own life.
"Dickon! Where are you?" She called out, her voice ringing like little silver bells. She heard something behind the tree to her left. She laughed and ran around the tree to see Dickon lying on the ground.
"I found you! Dickon? Dickon, what's wrong?" He wasn't moving, he wasn't answering. Mary kneeled next to him, panic filling her, choking her. She felt for a pulse. Dickon's skin was waxy and his pulse faint.
"Dickon! Dickon! Wake up! Dickon!" she cried. She shook him, trying to wake him up, trying to make everything right again. Suddenly his eyes fluttered open.
"Mary? Why art tha' cryin'? Please don' cry, please." He croaked, raising his hand to hold her face. She felt his hand slide a bit on the tears that were sliding down her face.
"Dickon! Stay with me, ok? I need you to lean on me so we can get you home." She told him, his only acknowledgment was a slight nod. Mary pulled him to his feet and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He leaned heavily on her and they slowly made their way down the path and out the secret door.
Mary looked around for someone, anyone, to help her. She saw a rather new, but extremely kind, gardener named Hunter working on a primrose bush.
"Hunter! Hunter, help me!" Mary called out. The gardener, he was at least twenty-five, looked up, startled, and dropped his pruning shears to run and pick up Dickon's skinny eighteen year old frame, who was falling off Mary's shoulder. He wasn't conscious anymore, god, his breath was shuddering, barely even there.
"What happen'd, Lady Mary?" Hunter asked as they rushed to the manor. "I don't know! One second he's hiding behind a tree and the next he's on the ground! He doesn't seem to know what's going on, though." she spoke in a rush. Hunter didn't ask why he had been hiding behind a tree. Everyone knew that Dickon and Mary played Hide-and-Seek in the Garden.
They reached the manor and Mary directed to the first safe room she could think of: her room. The got up the stairs in record time. "Put him here, please!" Mary practically tripped coming through the door, but still managed to point Hunter towards the bed. "Now, I need you to find Marth and Mrs. Sowerby and bring them here immediately! Now!" She shouted when she saw him hesitate. He fled from the room and Mary turned towards the bed.
"Oh, what's wrong with tha', my poor Dickon. Please, stay with me, wait a wee bit longer now." She said, slipping into the broad Yorkshire that she usually used when she was alone. It was her way of trying to be closer to Dickon. Her voice switched back "Oh lord, please don't die. I love you, I know you can't hear me, but I do. Just hold on, please, just a little longer." Mary didn't doubt that this was serious. Dickon was never sick. He was the one who always sat next to her bed when she came down with something, getting her soup, or playing his pipe, or just talking to her. He always stayed with her until she got better. Knowing that he liked her voice, Mary started to sing a lullaby that her ayah had sung to her when she was sick.
Night is closing overhead
Just lay here, child, in your bed.
I
will stay here by your side,
I will sing a lullaby.
You should
sleep, just close your eyes,
Fold your wings, sweet butterfly.
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So? What'd you guys think? I have the next four parts written so I want 5 reviews before I update it! I mean it now, 5 REVIEWS! Now get going, or you'll never get that update!
Watching Eternity.
