Echoes Beyond The Garden

The question that leaves her lips echoes through my mind, like ripples on the surface of water. It was indeed a question of choosing my freedom. A freedom of never facing me or the freedom of being me. Each one of these choices showcases its own share of problems, but as I stare off into the distance, I can feel my mind calm, almost as if the waves stopped crashing but began grazing my feet.

A sense of calmness overtook me, not too sure where or how, but maybe it had something to do with the Shorekeeper who stood beside me. Her pearlescent hair shining in the moonlight, as she looks over at me, her smile piercing the world around us.

“You grew too comfortable inside of your old self that you forgot what you could be” she said as she turned around, her entire body skyscraping above me. “Comfort glazed your lens, and in this world, you are a reflection of what you could be.”

She pauses for a moment, her hand reaching out, enclasping mine. “So tell me…what lens do you see the world through now?” She asks with a smile on her face.

Red dots began to flow around us. I could feel the magic flow through my body, and in front of me, a shapeless form of magic. She looked at me with her crimson eyes. The look on her face was gentle, but I couldn’t help but notice that she was pushing me towards making a decision.

“I wonder what shape you’ll take.” She chuckled as my magic began to form into something more recognisable.

Nothing was said, but I felt the question strum through the world around us.

Not what shape would I take, but what shape I was ready to reveal.

My breath caught. The energy in my hand pulsed, and then it began to unfold, not in a blaze…but in a bloom.

A single petal began to unravel, then another.

Before my eyes lay a flower glowing with a red hue. I stared at it, amazed and puzzled. Not puzzled because of the unfamiliar thing of magic, but the fact that mine chose to take the shape of a flower.

The scorekeeper looks at me and smiles, her eyelashes gleaming in the moonlight.

“So that’s the shape of you.”

“Now all that’s left is to master it.”

I look up at her, wondering what mastering it could possibly mean, after all, isn’t this the only shape it can be?

“Your magic has a raw shape, that being the flower in your case. Untouched. Unchanged, it is purely…you.”

“However, you can change the outer shape should you wish, but I think that lesson is for another day.”

She looked at me with her red eyes, with a face that told a million stories.

“Don’t you think it’s time to end this night?” She whispered as she walked around me. She placed her hand upon my back, and before I could turn around.

She pushed me through the wall that once stopped me with a smile that seemed to hide a million sorrows. She whispered to me just before I felt all the way through.

“Head to the garden of mirrors, and the story shall continue. Until then, my flower”

I saw a tear fall from her eyes, and I couldn’t shake this feeling that I wanted to protect her from whatever I must face at the Garden of Mirrors.

On the other side of the wall, the world was full of colour, the smells, the sound and even the taste of the pollen in the air was back. I turned around to try and see if I could see her, I even reached out my hand for the wall, but to my surprise, the wall and the shorekeeper were nowhere to be seen or felt.

I guess I should go look for this garden of mirrors, I thought to myself.

I stop moving, I empty my lungs and take a deep breath, making sure to use my diaphragm and then my chest.

I breathed out in a slow and controlled manner, centred myself in the side of this world and my current predicament.

They say that becoming who you want takes several instances of conscious decision; this was one of those moments.

Mirrors are the religion in this world, and one of the main beliefs of it is that the only one we should pray to is our reflection in the mirror, for it is what we see and what others see. It also states that we must spend our lives perfecting the reflection we see in the mirror.

However, in order to face the one in the mirror, one must be ready to face the source.

For a reflection cannot exist without something to reflect (source).

“I guess I should see the priest”, I exclaimed, if I was going to get any answers as to what this garden of mirrors is, then I guess the master of mirrors would be a good place to start.

I ready myself, placing the phone that I’ve been clinging to into my bag that rests on my shoulders, and I set off towards the church of mirrors.

As I walk down the street towards the church, kids are playing, the flowers are full of colour, and everyone around me seems to be tending to their own personal projects, some tending to their gardens of plants and others to their gardens of words. The air feels light, and the sun is high up in the sky, painting the world with its orange hues, and in the middle of this all is a water fountain that, while covered in vines, still seems to hold its value to those around you.

It’s funny because you could describe the amount of plant life to be similar to a place that is abandoned, but it seems far from that. It’s like everyone here has accepted what has come, what is to come, and that they are all simply living, hoping that each little moment they have will lead to the eventual end that they wish.

I walk closer and closer towards the church, and the windows seem to reflect the light of the sun straight back, like a mirror reflecting only what can be seen. As I come closer, the walls seem like towers that will never fall, covered in vines that seem to grow alongside the walls of this castle.

I stopped just before I reached the door that towered over me, my breath catching in my throat as I remembered that Iris seemed to of had something to do with this priest.

“I won’t back down now…I promised myself and her that I would face this…”

“That I would face who I am.”

I push on the door and it begins to open, paving a path for me in which I must walk down in order to continue to write the book that they call life.

When my eyes adjust to the change in light, I see the sun's rays refract and reflect inside each crystal flower.

There seems to be one more, this time, I thought to myself, looking around at the flawless interior, no sign of dust or ageing.

The priest is kneeling down by the flowers, he seems to be talking to one of his subordinates; however, he seems to notice me and encourages his subordinate to continue his duties. He walks over to me, and his face slightly changes from a serious expression to a smile, almost like he was hiding something.

“Ah, you're back! I was worried I’d never see you again,” he exclaimed, his words showed worry, but his mannerisms told me otherwise.

“Well, what brings you to my garden?” He enquires while fixing the monocle that sits on his right eye.

“I’ve come to find a place called the garden of mirrors”, I reply, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him.

“Ah, the garden of mirrors, for you too know about it, you must have met her…” his face no longer worries, but a faint smile can be seen gleaming across his face. A smile not of happiness but one of scheming.

“Right this way” he says, sliding the book that rests in his hand to his side.

I followed as we strolled through the garden, the crystal roses still gleaming in the sunlight that shone through the windows. The rooms are painted in a golden hue, alongside the golden accents on the wall, it all complements the white floors and wall very well, all a deliberate choice I’m sure.

“What is the garden of mirrors?” I ask, the tapping of my heels echoing throughout the hallway.

“The garden of mirrors is like a storage place. A place where windows show us the other parts of ourselves. However, the mirror only responds when the correct person stands in front of it”

“So you mean there is a mirror for each person here?” I question, trying to dig for more answers.

“Yes, much like the flowers in the front garden, there is a mirror here for everyone”

“We have arrived. Are you sure you're ready to step in?” The priest asked, looking at me with a worried look on his face.

Why he would look at me like that, I had no idea.

What answers lie beyond this door?

Looking back on it, I now know why I was so hesitant that day…