The Garden of Weeping

The Garden of Weeping

 

You enter  this place through an arch covered in flowering vines, their rich burgundy trumpets dipping down nearly to your head. It is a room surrounded on all sides by thick hedges. Under your feet you see a path worn by  another pair of feet taking the same steps you now take, many, many times. The garden feels serene but sad- a place for a good cry, it seems.

As you walk further into the garden you can hear the trickle of water but cannot locate its source. A single mourning dove coos fitfully to itself. Every now and then the soft metallic notes of chimes ring through the air. You see many types of flowers in the garden, ones you never knew existed. You walk on.

You find yourself at the very center of the Garden of Weeping. A small standing stone sits directly in your path surrounded by rose trees which bend around it protectively. It is a granite type stone, mostly in shades of rose with silver flecks here and there. Carved into the rounded belly of the stone is the image of an eye weeping a crystal tear. The place feels sacred.

The eye begins to glow with a soft, mother-of-pearl light. The crystal tear turns liquid and drips to the ground, forming a tiny pool from which a small blonde dog emerges. The dog has beautiful brown eyes and charcoal ears. You think it may be a terrier but its coat is softer-looking. He seems happy to see you and wags his tail. He comes up to greet you but as you reach out to pet him, your hand encounters nothing but a warm, moist vapor where solid flesh should be.

You hear a voice choked with old grief from above.

" This is Skeeter, who was my dearest friend in the whole world for a very long time. He and I grew up together. This dog was there for me when all others had forsaken me. We were friends for 13 years until one day he disappeared from my yard, never to be seen again. They say that old dogs go off alone to die... I think that's what he did. I'll never know if he knew how much I loved him and how his absence hurts me, but it was his time. I wish he had not gone to die alone but it was his death and his choice. It's been several years now and still I cry.. "

You hear a strangled sob and all becomes very quiet.

The dog looks up, wagging his tail, seemingly in silent communion with the owner of the voice. He begins to glow with a gentle rose-gold light. The glow grows brighter and brighter until you can no longer see him. You feel such a great love coming from this light. The light fades, taking the dog with it. In his place is a small globe of crystal which wobbles then rolls back up the stone to become the tear from the eye once more.

The entire garden shimmers and vanishes leaving you with two paths:

 

To the Room of Doors

Room of Text