A Fragment of Peace- Chapter 7

How to explain this to her? I sat on the fence, and felt like one of those garden gnomes with the fishing rods. The typical image of a gnome. Well I have met quite a few, and I can tell you now, they aren’t all like that, and I have never met any that fish! But… how would you explain a faery sitting on your fence? How would the faery explain being there? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. 1

I had plucked up the courage, after 3 days of her not visiting the orchard, to go to her home. So there I was. Sitting. Waiting. I just needed to see her, check she was ok. I wanted to feel her. To stroke her hair or touch her skin… 2

I could tell she had spent her time in the garden the last few days, as there was a small print in the ground under a tree, where something had been sitting. And from what I know, and what you know, its not hard to realise it was her that left the print in the grass. 3

I turned my mind back to what to say to her. “Hey, I thought I’d come see how you were” or “I came because I miss you like hell and can’t get you out of my mind…” Urm, maybe not. Maybe she wouldn’t even ask. The sun had set and the glow of the dying sun was slowly ebbing away, darkness was just settling down for the night. She might not come back out now. Then I wouldn’t have to explain myself. But then… I wouldn’t get to see her. 4

People had already come to her Grandparents house. They had put a big wooden board up with some numbers on. And people had been trailing around the house and garden, freely expressing the opinions on the property. If they don’t like it, get lost! I hate the thought of loosing that place. Of seeing it change dramatically, and for Marie’s presence to slowly fade. She did a lot in that garden, she had done ever since she could crawl. She used to stumble around dead-heading flowers for her grandma, then when she grew somewhat, she would weed and help prune. Finally she was taught how to clean the pond out, and now she would do anything in that garden. Weeding, trimming, strimming… anything. 5

I was lost in memories when I suddenly heard the back door open.6