Chained to old wounds

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Morgan

There was a raw honesty in his voice, a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before. It was clear how much he missed her, how deeply her absence still affected him. My heart ached for him, for the loss he’d suffered. But amidst the sadness, there was also a warmth in his tone, a tenderness that spoke volumes about their bond.

“Tell me more about her,” I found myself whispering, compelled by the glimpse into his past. “What was she like?”

He turned to me, his gaze meeting mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. For a moment, he seemed to search my eyes, searching for something I couldn’t quite decipher. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, a smile that held the promise of stories yet to be told.

“There’s so much to tell,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet fondness. “Where would you like to begin?”

“Maybe start with the first time you remember feeling connected to this garden,” I suggested, leaning back against the rough bark of the oak tree.

The corners of Tsuneo’s eyes crinkled slightly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I suppose I was quite small then,” he began, his voice taking on a reminiscent tone. “Barely taller than the roses. I remember chasing a particularly plump bumblebee, its wings buzzing angrily as it dodged my clumsy attempts. It led me on a merry chase, deeper and deeper into the garden, until I finally stumbled upon Mom, sitting beneath this very tree.”

He gestured towards the sprawling oak above us, its branches heavy with leaves filtering the last rays of sunlight. “She was humming a tune, her eyes closed, a peaceful smile gracing her lips. The moment I saw her, a feeling of… belonging washed over me. It was as if this garden, this place, held all the love and warmth she had to offer.”

He paused, his gaze drifting back to the vibrant blooms. “She scooped me up in her arms then,” he continued, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “And together, we explored the garden. She taught me the names of the flowers, the secrets whispered by the wind, the language of the buzzing bees. This garden became our haven, a place where we could be ourselves, just mother and son.”

I listened intently, captivated by his story. The image of a young Tsuneo, full of childish wonder, exploring the garden with his mother, painted a touching picture. “It sounds like a truly special place for both of you,” I said softly, my voice filled with empathy.

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He nodded, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. “It was. She taught me so much here, not

just about the garden, but about life, about love, about loss.” He fell silent again, the weight of the past seeming to settle between us.

Taking a deep breath, I broke the silence. “Was she… was she also a dragon?” I asked hesitantly, the question that had been bubbling beneath the surface finally escaping my lips.

A smile, tinged with a hint of sadness, touched his lips. “No, she wasn’t. She was… a different type

of spirit.”

I frowned at the way he didn’t give details, but I didn’t push.

“She was the first person to see me in my true form, and she loved me all the same.”

His words hung in the air, a testament to the extraordinary bond he shared with his mother. A lump formed in my throat, a mix of emotions swirling within me sadness for his loss, admiration for his mother’s acceptance, and a flicker of something new, a tentative hope for the future we could be building together.

When the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a breathtaking display of pinks and oranges, we finished our meal. A comfortable silence settled between us, a silence that wasn’t awkward, but rather a continuation of the connection we had forged through shared

stories and stolen moments.

Tsuneo rose to his feet, extending a hand towards me. “Care for a stroll, Morgan?” he asked, his voice laced with a newfound warmth.

I took his hand, a thrill shooting through me at the simple contact. “I’d like that very much,” 1 replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

We walked hand–in–hand along a winding path that snaked through the heart of the garden. The air grew cooler, but the scent of wildflowers intensified, a sweet perfume that filled my senses. Ast we walked, Tsuneo pointed out various plants and flowers, their names tripping off his tongue with surprising ease.

He knelt down suddenly, his hand brushing against a cluster of delicate bluebells. With a gentle touch, he plucked two, their color a perfect match for his sapphire eyes. He stood up, offering

them to me.

“For you,” he said, his voice husky.

My heart skipped a beat. Taking the flowers, I brought them to my nose, inhaling their sweet fragrance. “They’re beautiful,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

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10:11 Wed, Oct 16

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A smile, hesitant yet genuine, played on his lips. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, a

so intimate it sent shivers down my spine.

gesture

“There’s something else I want to show you,” he said, his gaze flickering towards a hidden corner of the garden.

Curiosity piqued, I followed him as he led me deeper into the undergrowth. The path narrowed, becoming a barely discernible trail. We emerged into a clearing bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Tiny pinpricks of light danced in the air, flitting amongst the dewdrops clinging to the spiderwebs that stretched between the branches.

A gasp escaped my lips. There, nestled amongst the ferns and wildflowers, were tiny houses. fashioned from leaves and twigs. And flitting between them, no bigger than my thumb, were what appeared to be miniature people with iridescent wings.

“Fairies, Tsuneo whispered, his voice filled with awe. “They make their home here part of the garden.”

in this hidden

My eyes widened in wonder. As a child, I had devoured stories of fairies and mythical creatures, but I never truly believed they existed. Yet, here they were, flitting about their miniature dwellings, their tiny wings shimmering with light.

We stood there for what felt like an eternity, lost in the magic of the moment. The fairies, seemingly unfazed by our presence, continued their gossamer dance. And in that hidden world, bathed in moonlight and the soft glow of fireflies, the connection between Tsuneo and me deepened, a silent promise whispered on the wings of the fairies.

The silence in the clearing was broken only by the faint tinkling of unseen bells and the soft hum of the night insects. The tiny figures of the fairies, their iridescent wings catching the moonlight in fleeting bursts of color, seemed to be gathering around us, their curiosity outweighing their usual shyness.

Then, as if on cue, a melody filled the air. It was a sound unlike anything I had ever heard–before, a harmonious blend of chimes, whispers, and the rustle of leaves. The fairies, perched on blades of grass or hovering in mid–air, were singing. Their voices, ethereal and light, filled the clearing with magic.

The music, whimsical and enchanting, seemed to weave a spell around us. Tsuneo, his gaze locked with mine, offered me his hand. A hesitant smile played on his lips, a silent question in his eyes.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum against the backdrop of the faerie song. This was unexpected, this vulnerability he was showing me, this invitation to a dance unlike any other. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand in his, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through me.

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As if sensing our decision, the music swelled, the melody taking on a more rhythmic tempo.