Dark Garden

Well, I mentioned before that I write short stories. This one came from a discusison I was having with a couple of friends this weekend at church. It was about their life, the lives of some of their friends/loves, and stock book characters. In the end, we, jokingly, reached this same conclusion to what happens in this story.

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Dark Garden

Two friends walked in the darkness of the garden, the cool autumnal air smoking on their lips. They spoke in hushed voices that the darkness seemed to swallow as they paced next to each other, almost in step. The one looked down at the stony ground of the garden path while the other spoke. The one in the scarf pulled his cloak tighter as he listened to the talker continue.

“She will never see me that way! It is so frustrating!” He spoke as he motioned with his gloved hands, “I have loved her passionately ever since the day I met her, and she… she has broken my heart time and time again!”

“So what are you going to do?” Asked the silent one.

“I dunno! She, that siren, she’s intoxicated my very being! Every step I take I want her there with me. Every bite I eat turns to ash in my mouth without her. I dream about her. I can’t seem to breathe unless she’s there! And yet she will not even look at me other than as a friend… if even that!”

“It sounds to me… that you, my friend, are truly in love with this girl.”

“Oh, I am! I would do anything to have her return my love! I would sacrifice anything! Anything!” He spoke and the fire in his heart made his smoky breath come in plumes.

They stopped in the tree lined walkway in the garden. The small, silvery pale moon seemed frosted in the sky, peaking into the secret space through a gap in the trees. The two seemed to both be meditating on this statement from the talker. The silent one finally pulled his scarf closer around his neck and spoke again.

“There is a way. But I must warn you that it will require the deepest love.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that!”

“Yes… I think you’re right. Just remember, a lesson I learned too hard, that you cannot force love, no matter how much you may love the person. True love learns to let go… learns to let the other be truly happy… but enough of all this. You’re passion still burns brightly. If you let it guide you, promise me you will let it guide you to the end.”

“I promise. Even though I don’t understand.”

“There are many things in this life we don’t understand.”

“Like why villains never have a good reason for being a villain.” Remarked the one in love, a teasing comment to an earlier discussion.

“Or, why one woman can have so much sway over the heart of man.” Said the scarfed friend smiling.

Much later that evening, the talker was awoken by a knock on his door. His valet came in and handed him an urgent telegram. It was from the city. It was from her brother. It was a message that made his blood run cold and his heart stop in its beat.

“Pierre,
My sister, Gisela, has been kidnapped. We have looked everywhere for her, but have been unable to locate her. Please come quickly and with all haste. I can think of no one who would be able to aid me more in this time of need.
Sincerely,
Pascal”

Pierre had journey to the city that evening and begun the investigation with Pascal and the local constable. The city was large and the kidnapper had gone without a trace. However, after Pierre arrived things became much better for the investigation. Pierre had a habit of always putting his hat and cane in the hall closet, no matter what the circumstances. When he had arrived he had seen some grease on the knob of the closet and so the investigation had a lead.

The grease Pierre had also recognized as the special oil and lead mix used by the publishing houses, the machines of which he had more than once had to repair. He assumed the villain must be one of disgruntled workers who worked for Gisela’s father, who owned one of the largest publishing houses of all.

They had soon tracked down the most likely place, but as the group entered, the floor began to give on the second storey balcony and all fell to the river below except for Pierre, who luckily had been unlocking the door and had time to leap in the dark building. Unfortunately for Pierre, the doors down below were bolted shut, so that he alone would have to face Gisela’s kidnapper. He found a small note, written in neat handwriting.

“I know who you are and why you are following me. Bring fifty thousand francs and come unarmed to the address below. Do not tell the constable about this note. If you disobey even one of these commands you will never see the girl again.”

He did as he was told. He unlocked the doors and left, taking the money with him to the address. He arrived and walked through the tree lined avenue of the public gardens, the leaves crunching underfoot. He finally came to a spot where the moon shone through a gap in the trees on the dismal scene.

Gisela was tied up against a tree, a figure next to her in a dark cape with a black hat with its wide brim pulled over his face. He spoke with a distorted voice and laughed maniacally several times as he spoke.

“Hahaha! Now my vengeance is complete. I have the money and the daughter of my oppressor, who is quite pretty. She’ll make a good wife to add to my collection! Hahahaha!”

“Never you fiend! Here’s your money. Now keep your part of the bargain! Let her go!”

Gisela looked with hope-filled eyes, tears gleaming down her cheeks to where her mouth was gagged by a cottony cloth. She had never realized how heroic Pierre was. He continued speaking but was interrupted by the madman.

“Ha! Sorry, but I think not! I was never planning on keeping my part of the bargain! You shouldn’t have been dumb enough to keep yours!”

As the madman laughed Pierre made a quick motion, firing a pistol hidden in his cloak, “Actually, I didn’t keep mine either.”

The madman fell to the ground in a heap, the round bullet hole in his forehead pressed against the cool stones of the garden path. Pierre ran forward and freed Gisela. She clung to his strong figure, her eyes shining with tears as she embraced her shining knight. As the two walked away, Pierre looked down at the gag that had been used to bind Gisela and felt as if he had seen it somewhere before. A drape? A kerchief? No. He simply place dit out of his mind and walked on, dropping the long cotton cloth on the body. It was not until the night before his wedding to Gisela that he awoke with a cry of anguish, realizing it was THE scarf.


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Dum dum dah!!! There you go! In teh end they said that the reason it seems a villain has no good reason for doing what they're doing, is because they are actually doing it to help the hero be a hero. Because without them the hero is a nobody. So what some of them were saying was that I should be teh villain for them so that they could "get teh girls". Lol it was funny.