T h e s e c r e t g a r d e n
He rode through the city's cobbled streets on his white steed with his chest held high . He was a handsome man, and even a man of status, and he knew it. His blue eyes flickered from side to side sparkling in the restrained pace that characterized him, while he considered all the city's small gardens as he rode by. He knew all of them inside out.
As he rode there, he was a beautiful figure to lay eyes on. He was tall and muscular and proud and his head was raised slightly as he looked down on the world . The white horse underneath him simply reinforced his strength and masculinity , as the noble and powerful animal it was. A gust of wind gracefully ran towards him and began to play with his grain blonde hair before it hurriedly went on. Not even the wind could stay away from him he thought and his mouth crooked into a confident smile.
He looked left and saw a dark-haired woman in one of the well-known small gardens. She was nursing one of her flowerbeds. When she saw him , she smiled and waved eagerly; her short hair dancing and jumping up and down on her narrow shoulders when she did so. He sent her a sparkling look with his intense eyes and smiled broadly with his sensual mouth, which he knew all women loved, and his strong white teeth were exposed to light as he did so. He raised his hand and sent the woman a worthy wave. The woman sighed deeply and he smiled at the sight of it. He knew what impact he had on women from all those times he had defeated them; like when a lion laid down his prey. And then they were all turned into adult women who lowered the soft hedges into their monotonous gardens and began to care for them as genuine ladies should and must.
He turned his gaze forward and away from the worshiping woman and rode on. Now it was his turn to sigh. He was starting to get bored with his life. His world had become monotonous and without any surprises. He rode onto a gravel path that led up to a small ridge and looked down on the city. He knew every square, every road, every little pond .
And it all looked just like one another. Nothing was different. Not one garden had this special black rose, that there were no other garden that had, or a tree that only that one woman held. They all had the same.
They were all the same.
He turned his gaze to the right, and there, distant from the other houses and all alone, was a high fieldstone masonry hiding a secret garden. Nothing was to be seen from the garden; only a few climbing plants had managed to grow up on the top of the wall, where they appeared to the outside world and comfortably stretched towards the sunlight.
He had never been in this garden and he had only seen the girl who lived there a few times as a quick movement of a white dress in the corner of the eye.
But as soon as you looked after her, she was gone.
She was mysterious and exciting; magic as a forest elf and shy as a deer. She never went out to see anybody, and nobody never went to see her.
The gate into her garden was always carefully locked, so he never did anything else than to just ride past; he never went to visit this place. But for some reason, he did today. Curious, he spurred his horse and rode closer. When he reached the high wall he kept his horse back, and hesitated for a moment as he looked up at this lightly deterrent place. Then he got off his noble steed, and with long, firm steps he walked across the ground between him and the masonry and he approached the gate. He raised his hand towards the door, hesitated with his hand in the air for a moment, before he laid it on the door knob gently and gave it a gentle push. The door noiselessly slid inwardly in a quiet arc. His hand froze during to sheer surprise for a moment.
The gate was open?
Then he got caught of curiosity. He straightened his back and a smile, that a lot of people probably would find very arrogant and not very appealing, glued to his face. He threw his head back to the side and looked at his horse .
"’Gate’s open, mate!" With these words he turned his head back towards the garden's hidden secrets, and with his chin lifted in confidence he took the first step into the garden's glorious entirety.
As he stood inside the garden's high masonry the light suddenly fell different, and in the next moment everything was bathed in a glow that made everything appear even more fairytale-like than it already was. He slowly looked around with curious, vigilant eyes, and slowly his breath was taken away from him. The garden was … strange and marvelous in an attractive and also frightening way that scared the hell out of him for a moment. As the sirens, who lured men into the deep blue ocean until they were completely engrossed, he felt that the garden was calling him. Like if the garden was luring him into depravity.
Or was it vice versa?