[CONTEST ENTRY] The Gardener. 1000 words exactly
![[CONTEST ENTRY] The Gardener. 1000 words exactly](https://t.fakku.net/images/upload/x0bb5ec8cc4de7dd96d0a73d141eaf450.jpeg)
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The Gardener
It was the evening before Christmas, the streets were white and the windows were almost soggy from condensation. Jacob Gould, a sixty-three-year-old man stares down his street, wiping away the water from his window and rests his arm on the window sill. It’s already dark outside and the street lights are all on, it looks like they’ve been on for quite some time. He lives at the bottom of his street, where he can look from his window all the way to the main road with houses beside him and up the road. He directs his sight higher and stares at the stars, thinking, just he does every night and day about his wife who left Jacob Widowed.
“It’s all my fault” he says to himself, “I can’t live with myself anymore, I wish it were me” His voice starts raising, even though he’s quite aware that his isn’t talking to someone, but sanity or Longevity’s opinions is the last thing on his mind.
It was 10 years ago; Jacob was a professional gardener with a passion for his job. He made his garden beautiful and said everyday to his wife that it’ll never be as pretty as her, no matter how hard he tried. But one Christmas, the paths in the garden were icy and fun to slide on. At this point in his life, he had his child still living with him and thought it’d be fun to slide around. Even though his wife was still pregnant with his child he said “come on, darling! It’s fun” Not a concern filled Jacob’s mind, nor his wife’s and nor his son’s.
“What a foolish man I am” Sighed Jacob. Anyone can tell that it’s been a long time since his wife died and that he should have resolved this by now. “I’m lonely and it’s almost Christmas again. My son doesn’t visit and…” Jacob breaks down into tears on the spot. Tears pour down his once dry face, like rain in the desert.
“Oh Beatrice! It can’t stand it anymore!” His smashes his wrinkled hands against the window, shouting out like he’s preaching to an army before they set off on their last journey. He stops and sees his reflection against the window, there’s another long pause as he notices the tears. “I’ve been crying? I have haven’t I?”
“Come on Beatrice, it’s fun, it’s fun!” Exclaimed Jacob
“Fun?! It’s dangerous don’t you think?” She replied hastily
“You can trust me right? Slide across this amazing garden! Let me watch you glide, glide like the angel you are. I want my two most beautiful things in my life to dance together!”
Beatrice giggled to herself. “Okay okay!”
She hasn’t been pregnant for long; in fact they heard the good news just a week ago.
The pretty lady moves towards her husband as he applauds, he can imagine what he is seeing framed on his wall as art. She dances across the path, glides and turns like she’s a famous model, Jacob cannot believe his eyes! Beatrice blushes “am….do…do you like it?” She shyly mumbles to her husband. Jacob blushes as well; he knows that he will wake up a very happy man on Christmas morning! He turns around in shyness, like a little school girl. His senses deceive him as all he can move his attention to now is his beautiful wife, not hearing the sound of next door’s rubber ball bouncing around, like it is being kicked. A glimpse in the corner of his eye, it is dangerous. Time for him slows down, he sees the smiles of his wife, she’s shining and yet his expression drops. The ball hits her in the leg and she is thrown to the ground.
“That’s it” Jacob says sternly “It’s been ten years and I’ve been blaming myself”. He slams his fist against the window sill and heads down the stairs. “I was careless” The old man takes a breath “But…” He scratches his stubble and it feels sharper than usual, like it’s been newly shaven “but…YOU WERE TOO!”
“For ten years you have been playing around in your fucking garden with that fucking ball without a shred of guilt?!” Mr Gould is so angry that he’s out of character and unrecognisable. “I’ve had enough and I will make you pay!” He grabs his scruffy coat and heads into his garden. His tensed body is now moving on its own. He hears the †˜murderer’, as now labelled, playing in his garden. “How convenient” he thought, “he’s now fifteen and still doing the same old shit like a fucking child”. He grabs a shovel and knocks down the fence like an out of control bear that is escaping a bear trap. The boy’s face drops as he is confronted by his neighbour. “COME HERE” says the old man as he hits him with a shovel and quickly pulled back through the fence. All in the space of a few seconds, the kid’s parents come rushing out from the back door to see the destruction. “Look Sebastian, BLOOD! And our son's gone!” the distressed wife exclaimed.
Hauled into his van, the old man heads off into the night, careless of the ice that once tore his family apart.
“Billy, you fucking murderer, you’re going to die!” Mr. Gould said bluntly in a calm, yet aggravated voice.
“Sir? Why? What did I do?!” Shouted Billy at the old man!
“YOU MURDERED MY WIFE!” but before he could finish, he had already let go of the steering wheel and crashed.
With his last bit of strength, he pulled out the picture he kept of his wife in his side pocket and looked at it with an innocent smile. Blood. Blood dripped and tarnished the photo as his eyes focused onto reality. He started to cry again and the tears that landed on the picture could not was away the blood. The boy was dead in the back of his van. “Merry Christmas Beatrice”.
EDIT: ok i changed name's for FAKKU relevance. Also, changed it from fifteen years to 10.
Longevity, feel proud that i used your name.
Jacob, i chose a generic person.
It was the evening before Christmas, the streets were white and the windows were almost soggy from condensation. Jacob Gould, a sixty-three-year-old man stares down his street, wiping away the water from his window and rests his arm on the window sill. It’s already dark outside and the street lights are all on, it looks like they’ve been on for quite some time. He lives at the bottom of his street, where he can look from his window all the way to the main road with houses beside him and up the road. He directs his sight higher and stares at the stars, thinking, just he does every night and day about his wife who left Jacob Widowed.
“It’s all my fault” he says to himself, “I can’t live with myself anymore, I wish it were me” His voice starts raising, even though he’s quite aware that his isn’t talking to someone, but sanity or Longevity’s opinions is the last thing on his mind.
It was 10 years ago; Jacob was a professional gardener with a passion for his job. He made his garden beautiful and said everyday to his wife that it’ll never be as pretty as her, no matter how hard he tried. But one Christmas, the paths in the garden were icy and fun to slide on. At this point in his life, he had his child still living with him and thought it’d be fun to slide around. Even though his wife was still pregnant with his child he said “come on, darling! It’s fun” Not a concern filled Jacob’s mind, nor his wife’s and nor his son’s.
“What a foolish man I am” Sighed Jacob. Anyone can tell that it’s been a long time since his wife died and that he should have resolved this by now. “I’m lonely and it’s almost Christmas again. My son doesn’t visit and…” Jacob breaks down into tears on the spot. Tears pour down his once dry face, like rain in the desert.
“Oh Beatrice! It can’t stand it anymore!” His smashes his wrinkled hands against the window, shouting out like he’s preaching to an army before they set off on their last journey. He stops and sees his reflection against the window, there’s another long pause as he notices the tears. “I’ve been crying? I have haven’t I?”
“Come on Beatrice, it’s fun, it’s fun!” Exclaimed Jacob
“Fun?! It’s dangerous don’t you think?” She replied hastily
“You can trust me right? Slide across this amazing garden! Let me watch you glide, glide like the angel you are. I want my two most beautiful things in my life to dance together!”
Beatrice giggled to herself. “Okay okay!”
She hasn’t been pregnant for long; in fact they heard the good news just a week ago.
The pretty lady moves towards her husband as he applauds, he can imagine what he is seeing framed on his wall as art. She dances across the path, glides and turns like she’s a famous model, Jacob cannot believe his eyes! Beatrice blushes “am….do…do you like it?” She shyly mumbles to her husband. Jacob blushes as well; he knows that he will wake up a very happy man on Christmas morning! He turns around in shyness, like a little school girl. His senses deceive him as all he can move his attention to now is his beautiful wife, not hearing the sound of next door’s rubber ball bouncing around, like it is being kicked. A glimpse in the corner of his eye, it is dangerous. Time for him slows down, he sees the smiles of his wife, she’s shining and yet his expression drops. The ball hits her in the leg and she is thrown to the ground.
“That’s it” Jacob says sternly “It’s been ten years and I’ve been blaming myself”. He slams his fist against the window sill and heads down the stairs. “I was careless” The old man takes a breath “But…” He scratches his stubble and it feels sharper than usual, like it’s been newly shaven “but…YOU WERE TOO!”
“For ten years you have been playing around in your fucking garden with that fucking ball without a shred of guilt?!” Mr Gould is so angry that he’s out of character and unrecognisable. “I’ve had enough and I will make you pay!” He grabs his scruffy coat and heads into his garden. His tensed body is now moving on its own. He hears the †˜murderer’, as now labelled, playing in his garden. “How convenient” he thought, “he’s now fifteen and still doing the same old shit like a fucking child”. He grabs a shovel and knocks down the fence like an out of control bear that is escaping a bear trap. The boy’s face drops as he is confronted by his neighbour. “COME HERE” says the old man as he hits him with a shovel and quickly pulled back through the fence. All in the space of a few seconds, the kid’s parents come rushing out from the back door to see the destruction. “Look Sebastian, BLOOD! And our son's gone!” the distressed wife exclaimed.
Hauled into his van, the old man heads off into the night, careless of the ice that once tore his family apart.
“Billy, you fucking murderer, you’re going to die!” Mr. Gould said bluntly in a calm, yet aggravated voice.
“Sir? Why? What did I do?!” Shouted Billy at the old man!
“YOU MURDERED MY WIFE!” but before he could finish, he had already let go of the steering wheel and crashed.
With his last bit of strength, he pulled out the picture he kept of his wife in his side pocket and looked at it with an innocent smile. Blood. Blood dripped and tarnished the photo as his eyes focused onto reality. He started to cry again and the tears that landed on the picture could not was away the blood. The boy was dead in the back of his van. “Merry Christmas Beatrice”.
EDIT: ok i changed name's for FAKKU relevance. Also, changed it from fifteen years to 10.
Longevity, feel proud that i used your name.
Jacob, i chose a generic person.
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Lovely and jolly. :p The problem I have though is there's no reference to Fakku, as far as I could see, which is one of the contest rules. :( Sorry, it's in place to prevent plagiarism and tie things in with the forums; I'm not saying I suspect you, but it wouldn't be fair on others to apply the rule ad-hoc. You can post again with a revised edition if you like.