First of all, Happy Birthday to me, even though I’ve been 18 for the better part of a day, I would say it’s not all that great. So I live in this little town somewhere in the middle of America that if any of you live in a place without a shopping mall or literally anything to do at all, looks very similar to my hometown. Until this morning, I thought that I lived a relatively normal life with my mom and dad and little brother. I mean looking back our town was weirdly obsessive about gardening and growing stuff but I just figured it was because our dad owned a gardening store. Everybody in this town would have a little garden and they would grow a bunch of vegetables and fruit and stuff and then go brag about it or sell it in the lame town square. There used to be stories of a big famine like 200 years ago or something but you would never know that since this place is literally obsessed with eating and food.
I was raised pretty well by my parents I mean they got me a computer and stuff and never really complained if I wanted to play video games all the time they really invested all their time in my little brother Sawyer. They have these big lofty goals about how he was going to become a great leader one day, And be the greatest gardener of the town has ever seen (Like really? Who wants their kid to be a gardener) Me, they really didn’t expect to see me doing much after high school. It meant I got a lot of free time to do whatever, but that also meant I never really got praise or anything that validated me as their child. Sawyer though, he had every trophy and award for just showing up to a competition (when most of the time he won anyways) so I would say there was a clear favorite in our family.
So anyways, last night was the night before my birthday, and it was really weird for starters because my parents were all of a sudden very interested in me and cooked this giant amazing meal and were just kind of weirdly sad even though I thought people were supposed to be happy with their kid is turning 18 since they now have to start paying for their own stuff. My Mom kept looking at me and tearing up and my dad would hold her hand and whisper something in her ear and she would get it back together. Sawyer was just telling me how proud he is of me, like dude you are 11, stop talking like you’re an old man or something, it’s creepy.
So after dinner, my Dad takes me into his study where he has a bunch books and old historic stuff from when the town was founded and he goes over to his cabinet and pulls a bottle off the top shelf and two glasses. While he is filling up the glasses, he tells me that this is a tradition in our family and that this is something he wants to share with me. I was really taking the office in with the old mahogany furniture. He had all these old tools with white wood handles, like this giant serrated machete on the mantlepiece and another one that looked like a hoe except the handle was maybe half as along as it would need to be. I was about to pick up the machete when I glance at the photo above it.
It was one of those old photos where nobody smiled in it, especially in this one because it was of two teenage boys. One of them looked like my grandpa, and I only know that because Mom NEVER stops talking about how much Sawyer looks like him. As for the other guy, I figured it might be a friend or something. I was about to ask Dad when I turn and he’s giving me this big proud look. He then launches into this speech about how in every harvest there is time to give back to the Earth, even if you have nothing you want to give up. That it’s our duty to not dwell on the tragedy of sacrifice but appreciate the nobility of it. As he wraps this up he hands me a glass filled with this amber liquid. This is also super par for the course form because he’s always saying weird stuff like there’s two kinds of people in this world those who are sewn, and those who reap (which I knew wasn’t what the saying was, but how are you gonna correct your father?) i when my dad lifts his glass I hear a crash in the kitchen which causes my dad to sit down his glass and run out to the hall to go check on my mom. He then watched down to the kitchen and I can hear some crying or something, but they are whispering so I don’t wanna interrupt.
So I go back in and realize I spilled some of my drink when the crash happened and it was making one of those rings on the wood table. So I pick up both glasses and set them on the desk while I wipe up the spill with my shirt. As I am wiping it up I feel this small groove within the wood and I realize there is a small pattern cut into the top. It starts at the edge and it spirals inward to the center of the table where I realize there is small drain. As I continue staring I start to get a really intense headache and vertigo (like I was being sucked into the pattern) when I hear my Dad coming back up the stairs.
I quickly grab the glasses and set them back to their places right as he walks back in. He takes the glass and raises it up and says “To your Legacy my son, and everything you will do for this Town.” He then absolutely SLAMS back this drink where I take a small sip. I want to take a second and just say that in complete honesty, scotch or bourbon or whatever he poured in that tastes like someone poured hand sanitizer in a barrel and then asked me to drink it. He must have really liked it because he immediately poured himself another and began drinking that too.
We must have sat in the office for maybe a half hour, him talking about the history of this place and all the great stuff Sawyer is going to do intermixed with him asking me to take another drink since I am a big man now (which absolutely sucked). At some point he just sort of fell asleep in his chair mid sentence so I took that as my opportunity to respectfully duck out. As I stood in the doorway to quietly shut the door and go play video games until the crack of dawn I took one last look at that photo across the office.
Even from where I was, I swear they were looking right at me.
The next morning, what was supposed to be my birthday morning started off normal enough. It was a Friday, but I heard from one of my friends at school that we were getting the day of for some local holiday, I mean I wish it happened every year but beggars can’t be gardeners I guess.
I head downstairs passing by Sawyer’s room which is weird because the door was still shut, at 11 am no less. I figured the little freak was finally slacking off for once but works for me since I get first grab at breakfast. The smell of my Mom’s cooking was practically dragging me downstairs so I quickened my pace and headed into the kitchen. I barely got the “Good” out of my greeting before my mom started screaming.
I mean seriously! She took one look at me and started screaming for my dad. She absolutely blasted past me, thundering up the stairs while coughing and choking. I heard her open the office door and let out another scream which prompted me to get up and look. By the time I got to the door it was already shut and locked, but I could hear thrashing on the inside.
I gave what I thought was a very polite knock for my parents and they responded by just slamming into the door really hard like 5 times. With every impact the door shuddered against it’s frame and I was sure it was going to bust open but in never gave. After the final hit, it suddenly got very quiet on the other side. I tried the door handle but it was still locked tight, when it finally occurred to me that Sawyer has a key to our Dad’s office for whatever reason.
I am turning to go get him when I hear a “Oh, you’re still here.”
Sawyer was absolutely covered in dirt, he also had this weird smell on him, like it smelled like trash, but more organic. We have these giant compost piles behind a couple of our restaurants and I would say he smelled like that but with something… else.
I explained to him what happened this morning and just sort of looks at me before just saying “You head to town, I’ll take care of Mom and Dad” with one of those like soft smiles that, again, YOU WOULD ONLY EXPECT FROM ANYBODY EXCEPT AN 11 YEAR OLD. Deciding that none of this was worth my day off I headed downstairs and out of the house. As I come out the front door onto our picturesque little street I notice that a lot of the younger kids are out this morning, gardening.
Every single front yard on the street was dug up and tilled and in each were these piles of soil that had just settled and growing out of each was a patch of wildflowers I had never seen before. The pattern they were growing in started on the periphery and almost spiraled into the center of the mound. I felt like I was being drawn towards it when my focus was broken by a crash from our neighbors back door.
Mr. Nichols, who I once called Mr. because he failed me on a creative writing assignment came stumbling from behind his house covered in cuts and glass shards from what I assume was his very expensive sliding glass door. He was still wearing his pajamas with slippers and he was making this sort of muffled scream that sounded like he was covering his mouth. As he got closer I realized he had those wildflowers stuck in his mouth.
Okay maybe not stuck in there is the right word, because there were also flowers stuck in his ears, his nose, from each of his eyes and I am pretty sure I saw them coming from under his fingernails when he suddenly fell flat in his front yard. Both the twins from across the street came across and began digging a hole in next to the still writhing Mr. Nichols.
I don’t know if it was still the pattern that had me rooted to that spot or watching one of my still twitching teachers being hewn into pieces and set at different parts of this dirt mound. One of the twins looked at me with oddly vacant expression and said “We admire your cunning and allowing the Growth to come to pass. I am sure nobody is more happy then the Sower however.”
I don’t know how I started running or even to where, but away from that street seemed like a good enough start. In an alleyway between two shops I was catching my breath when I began to hear music fill the air. It was like a festive drumming beat and I heart flutes trilling on top of it. I turned the corner into the town square where I saw the glow of a fire first.
Standing, no dancing, on top of a gigantic dirt mount dotted with wildflowers and limbs was my little brother. He was swaying and kicking his legs out stumbling like a drunk man but always maintaining his footing. A crown of wildflowers upon his head. At the base of the mound, groups of kids where throwing more limbs and soil onto the pile, making it grow larger with every batch.
At that moment, I fully decided that I was not interested in sticking around. I found a small bicycle, pink with flowers on the front basket. I threw out a white handled garden trowel and began pedaling at what I thought was the shortest way out of town. As I pedaled I took one last look at the nightmare my town had become. My brother had stopped dancing and was staring right at me.
At some point the bike lost air and I ditched it somewhere off the highway, after that I just started walking. I came to this gas station maybe an hour ago. Seeing as I had no money, no job or anything to start my life I did the most rational thing and asked the 85 year old gas station owner if he needed any tech help. Turns out random gas stations in the sticks also have computer issues and I can thank all my gaming time to giving me half decent troubleshooting knowledge.
Everything from today is trapped in my memory, I can see the flower patterns, I can still smell that sick scent and hear those drums, all mixed with Sawyer’s inhuman dancing.
The worst thing is if I calm my breathing and let my senses fade out, I can swear it’s getting closer.