I'll fall in the forest
to elbows and knees
and it won't make a sound
since there's no-one around
here to see

–Dry the River Weights and Measures

Enclosed in the quiet space, eyes shut, a hum at the back of his throat pitched to match the hum of the stasis field, Jong Woon let the burdens of the week slip from his shoulders. This was his ritual, his routine. He felt that he would sully the peace of the garden if he looked at it before he had found some sort of peace within himself. Of late, it was becoming more difficult to find that place, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. His life was simple, well-maintained, and trouble free. Still, he sought refuge here every night before bed, searching for who knows what.

Tonight he opened his eyes before he found that peace. Twenty minutes of his allotted hour had passed and he could feel his heart rate increase in anticipation, hoping that tonight, just maybe, the motionless garden would come alive for him. When he opened his eyes, he had to blink several times to clear the tears that were stuck in his short, thick lashes. His heart broke briefly when he saw that the garden was as still as ever, birds and flowers caught in a silent landscape. It was a permanent twilight dotted with fireflies mid-mating call. He sat in his favorite spot, a bench that overlooked a border of white roses, a small space of green, and a large tree that spread its branches far and wide.

The roses were his favorite part of the garden. This night was one of the ones he wished to smell them. He left his bench to crawl close to the invisible barrier and concentrated on following the arcs and swirls formed by the petals. It enticed him, the way the curves and the subtle gradation of color led downward to the middle of the flower. What secrets hid under the last few petals that remained unopened? He wondered how it would feel to open them with his fingertips to peer beneath. Soft, he imagined. Would his small hands be gentle enough? Or would he bruise and crush them, unused to handling something so delicate.

When he tired of studying the roses, he would peer into the twilight beyond the tree wondering what secrets lay past the thick trunk. Rationally, he knew that there was nothing but the boundary of the garden, but he believed in hope.

Tonight he studied the roses for a longer time than he normally allowed himself. When he heard the soft chime that told him he only had ten minutes before his time was spent, he let out a soft sigh. He looked up to his tree, and for once, his unspoken expectations were met. Something had changed.

A handsome young man leaned comfortably against the tree as if he had always been there. His arms and leg were crossed and on his face he wore a wide smirk. Jong Woon really didn’t know how to react. What does one do when a dream comes true? He took a moment to study the man. The stranger wore a style of clothing unfamiliar to Jong Woon, but he found it oddly attractive. Brown was the predominant color and the fabrics looked as if they would be coarse to the touch. But what really caught Jong Woon’s attention was the watch that dangled from the man’s hand. It swung back and forth in a steady motion, and as he watched, he heard the volume of his surroundings rise. Then, his senses were suddenly assaulted with smells and sounds that he had never experienced.  The smell he ascertained as coming from the roses and it was more wonderful than he had ever imagined. The sounds came from the grass and trees and he could only assume they were made by a myriad of unseen insects. He could hear the leaves of the tree brush against one another in the wind that blew like a gentle breath against his face. He could see the fireflies flicker in their mating dance.  His garden was finally alive.

Slowly, he rose from where he knelt and stepped past the barriers that had ceased to exist the moment the watch began to swing. Jong Woon approached the young man whose grin never faltered. Before he had the chance to speak, he was spoken to by a voice that was rich and soothing.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep¹

And with those words the man slipped behind the tree and disappeared.

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 ¹These  lines are from the Robert Frost poem Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.

A/N-Welcome to my new story! My goal is to update at least once a week, even if it is short.