The Gardener

Deep inside the asylum's greenhouse lay a small sanctuary where roses bloomed in abundance amongst other flowers of every color imaginable. A variety of vegetables grew alongside apple trees heavy with fruit. The gardener tended to her crops. Her hands were caked in earth, dirt clung to the working gloves and clothing as she carefully pruned dead leaves. She hummed under her breath, stopping to wipe perspiration from her brow with a cloth. "What lovely tune, darling," a familiar voice spoke from the entrance. The Gardener glanced up to find The Groom approaching slowly. He wore his usual suit of white dress shirt and black waistcoat, trousers and matching bow tie - all sewn together crudely into a somewhat wearable ensemble. "Good afternoon," he greeted. She nodded once at him but remained silent. The Groom was always trying to strike up a conversation whenever around, but she would just give short, vague responses until he grew bored and wandered off elsewhere. Her favourite shovel was propped up nearby, within arms' reach. It wouldn't take more than two or three swings, she thought, for the shovel to cleave through a man's skull like butter. "Your plants look absolutely gorgeous, my dear." The Groom leaned forward to peer into a pot of tomato plants. One hung between his fingertips and she narrowed her gaze as he plucked it off the stem before popping it into his mouth. "Mm." He chewed. "Delicious!" "Those aren't ripe yet," The Gardener said curtly, rising to her feet. "Don't steal." The Groom straightened up with a sheepish grin on his face which probably was handsome once, when the scars did not disfigure it. "Forgive me, darling. You have such excellent produce that it was difficult not to help myself." He cleared his throat. "However, there are more pressing matters at hand than fresh tomatoes." The Gardener frowned and waited in silence; a bee buzzed past her ear, landed momentarily upon the petals of a yellow lily. "There's an...inconvenience." The Groom lifted his finger, pointing upward. "Some idiot found themselves in my humble abode. Slipped away, unfortunately, before I could grab hold." He chuckled, scratching the side of his neck. "Scurried like a little rat right in the direction of your lovely garden." She paused, glancing behind him. There was nobody around aside from them, save for several insects hovering over nearby flowers. If there was somebody here, they'd surely be heard or seen. "Haven't seen anyone," The Gardener shrugged. The Groom nodded sagely, stroking his chin in thought. "Well, if you do see the rascal, please let me know," he said before taking his leave. "Will do." "Wonderful."

It was the smell that drew some to the garden. Decaying sweetness hung heavy in the air and made their mouths water. There were roses growing in the hedges, lilies and daisies in pots, and vines creeping up the walls. Flowers bloomed beneath her care. They grew larger and more vibrant than any others and in the centre of it all a maze of hedges and shrubbery surrounded a stone fountain. The fountain had been dry for years, but she tended to it daily. It was the smell that drew them here, but little dared to enter. She didn't mind the visitors on good days. Plants always required more fertilizer. The garden had been hers since the riot. She had taken over after putting some other inmates to feed the roses, which looked happy and healthy now, despite not being cared for a long, long span of time before The Gardener came. Now their colours seemed even more vivid, red, yellow, orange, pink, and purple all together. She took a basket of strawberries and made her way inside the greenhouse. The Gardener liked it here. The sounds didn't reach her as far. No yelling, crying and screaming, it reminded her of the convent, where her sisters would have had their midday meal before going back to work, the smell of cooking stews wafting through the air as the nuns hummed hymns quietly among each other. The Gardener hummed too as she picked a fresh strawberry, popping into her mouth. Its sweet tart flavour was wonderful, so much better than the gruel or the tasteless porridge they were fed here before. But now with the riot, no more of that bland goo, no more cafeteria food. She could have her strawberries, her carrots, beets and so many more. "Tea is ready," she announced as if speaking to someone next to her. No one was there, but that never stopped her from serving another cup.