gardening

The maze was wide and narrow. The shrubs grew hot and heavy. In the darkness, you couldn’t tell what color they were. Which was just as well. They were not any color that would be considered natural. But they had been born here. They had grown up here. They had been lovingly raised here by a being just like you or I. And yet he wasn’t. Heart of gold when he was raising them. And yet it wasn’t. Some might consider him one of the worst people to have ever lived. To ever be living. His house was piled on the bodies of all the people he had taken apart, meticulously, scientifically. The sun rose and shone, watching the crimson that spilled out of his house as he took apart, punctured like a balloon, as he thought of it, human beings, and watched their lifeblood spill out. Guiding it towards his plants. Feeding them their daily meals. One a day. They seemed to love it. They grew like crazy. They glimmered in the dark. Glowing cat’s eyes. In the day, they seemed bright, too bright. Full of life. Their colors like none of the colors of any of the plants on earth. They grew tall and mighty. No need to guide them to grow in a straight direction. No need to cage them. They grew to his wishes. Without him ever having expressed those wishes. Every day blood spilled out of the house, in a tunnel now. A furrow that the blood of his previous victims had worn and burrowed. Every day his plants grew just a little bit taller.