The Garden

The fairy woods are where the lost go to die. The despondent, the miserable, the ones who are beyond saving; they go in, and they never come back out.

At least, that's what Adrien had always been told. The elders of his small town would whisper about the ghosts amongst the trees. How the dead would come to haunt the living, bemoaning their troubled fates and other ghostly things. He hadn't believed them. Ignored their warnings. He had played in those woods as a child, after all.

Never even seen a fairy. Sometimes oddly colored butterflies would land on his arms and his legs, and hummingbirds often plucked at his hair and hovered when he sang - but never a fairy. No matter how long he sat on a moss covered stump, singing lullabies and weaving a crown of pink flowers, not a thing happened.

No one with gossamer wings ever came to take him away.

What a shame.

It would have made for a lovely story, Adrien thought as he ducked beneath a low hanging branch, having just passed the threshold into the fairy woods. Here the grass grew thick and soft, the trees were tall and flourishing, and the moss grew in varying shades of green and pink. A lovely place, unfairly feared and hated by the people of the town. And for what? Being different? Beautiful?

So otherworldly that young people like himself wanted to get lost among the towering trees and sprawling bramble bushes - such a mystical place; Adrien could spend hours, days, even weeks wandering through the fairy woods.

The elders would never understand, never know why he felt so safe there. Never know that he felt more at home among those mossy oaks than inside the dusty buildings of his birthplace. Besides, he even looked like he should live in the woods, for as far as he knew, he did not belong among these fair skinned townspeople.

In the town, Adrien appeared as a thin, tall boy with wild curls of pale white and fair, dark olive skin - he looked very out of place with the other townsfolk, who all sported similar shades of brown or blonde hair and ivory skin. The other boys his age also tended to be shorter, less lanky and more stocky; built for the demanding physical labor of the harvest season.

His father, before he died, had told Adrien that he was the spitting image of his late mother, but he wasn't so sure. His mother had been striking, an elegant figure of breathtaking beauty and grace; Adrien was just too tall, too delicate and too feminine for these people. He could never make them love him like they had his mother.

Perhaps, if he acted like the men his age, his unique appearance wouldn't have such a negative affect. Perhaps if he was more like his stoic, hardy father his bullies would leave him be. However, he happened to be too gentle, too kind, too curious. He shied from rough play, flinched at a raised voice. Just far too delicate for this place.

Adrien belonged here, among these trees. With the purple-tinged mist curling around his feet, as if to beckon him further into the welcoming woods. He reached his hand out, carefully running his fingers over a mossy stone. His hand came away damp, milky dewdrops clinging to his skin. Experience told him that the droplets would taste just like honey, but cause hallucinations. A fantastical way to pass the time, but he had other things in mind today.

Adrien had entered the fairy woods with only one goal; to never go back to the town.

He'd had enough of their way of life, of their unwarranted fear and intolerance. He just couldn't live like that. Couldn't continue to exist in that town where he didn't belong. It's not like they offered anything he would ever want. Besides, his family was all dead, buried in the town cemetery where they would rot with the worms.

A life spent waiting for harvest season, lumber season, never discovering anything new. An eternity of torment, loneliness and judgement cast upon him for something he couldn't control; And one day, he'd also be expected to marry a town girl and bring children into this miserable place.

So, leaving had been the only option. Not that he'd been conflicted. This had always been his plan, to run away into the fairy woods he so loved.

Adrien had only just left, his packed bag on his back, but already he felt at peace. With a smile, he wiped his hand off on the prickly leaf of a nearby bush, and set out to put more distance between him and that damned town.

After all, he would need to find shelter before night fall.

This couldn't be good. A glorious, sprawling garden in the middle of the fairy woods? A suspicious sight, at best. A threat of something powerful and dangerous, at worst.

Adrien stood at the gate, aware of how little time he had before the sun set and the forest would be plunged into nearly complete darkness. He knew that a house - or at least a cabin - would be at the end of this giant garden, but who could live here?

Who, besides himself, had the courage to live in a place so many others were so scared of?

There came an inhuman screech from somewhere behind him, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. It sounded like some sort of wounded beast, something more monstrous than anything that deserved to live here.

Adrien slowly undid the latch on the black iron gate, carefully stepping through and letting it shut silently behind him. He didn't dare look back; instead walking straight through the garden.

On either side of him, bushes and trees were heavy with sickly sweet smelling flowers and ripe fruit. He could hear the buzz of a nearby beehive, hidden somewhere among the branches of a plum tree. A part of him wondered if this could be what paradise looked like. Wonderful, calm, abundant with life and beauty.

He had to duck beneath the hanging limbs of a weeping willow tree, where he found a stone bench covered in the same pink moss from the forest. Someone had put candles on the edge of the bench, half melted with the yellow tinged wax dripped down the side.

Next to the candles, a book bound in dark leather, with a blue feather stuck between the pages. Someone definitely lived here. When he touched the book, the leather felt dry and the wicks of the candles were still warm.

Adrien knew better than to try reading the book, and after a moment of pondering it and the bench, he moved on.

After moving past the willow tree, he crested a short hill. Just as the sun started to set, sending rays of soft orange light over the fairy woods, Adrien found the garden's cabin - and the owner.

An incredibly tall man, one much older than him, with long, jet black hair. For a moment, the man just stared at him with a sour expression, as if Adrien's being there were merely an inconvenience for him.

"Um..." Adrien shifted, clutching the straps of his bag and eyeing the stranger. The man heaved a sigh, taking a step towards him. For a moment, it seemed like Adrien would die, the malice in this man's eyes far too prominent, but then -

"Are you ever going to get the hint, or do I have to invite you inside?"

"Oh! Oh um, if its not too much trouble, sir...may I...stay for the night?"

The man had come closer, and Adrien could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, the cruel curve of a scar, half hidden by his hair, in the shape of a crescent moon just under his right eye, right along the cheekbone.

"Well," The man started, voice a soft rumble. "We'll see about that. May I have your name, little human?"

"No." The word slipped out before Adrien could stop himself. He had heard about fairies who steal people's souls by taking their names. "But I'll tell you what my name is?"

The man blinked at him, head cocking to the side.

"You realize I'm not a fairy, right?"

"Oh...well, in any case, my name is Adrien. Adrien Hollows."

"Hmm." The man turned, moving back towards the cabin door. Adrien started to follow, casting one last glance into the garden, where the dusk turned the shadows a deep purple.

As he stepped through the cabin door, his host deigned to smile at him.

"I am Lucius, the Weeping Angel. Welcome, Adrien Hollows, to the fairy woods."