Finals

Ladies and Gents, it’s finals week. I’m tired. My brain is friend. I’ve finished three exams so far. I have a huge paper looming over me. On top of that my car needs to be taken in for repairs. I’m hoping to drive to Memphis on Saturday. Sometimes I wish I could just go to sleep and all my problems would fade away… but they’re not going to. Then again things could be worse, my leg could be on fire.

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The Prince and His Garden

The following is a story I wrote for a class. It’s an idea for a chapter in a book for adolescents. Like all my classwork it was last minute, so I’m sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed. I’d really be interested in people’s feedback, areas to improve, what works, what doesn’t, etc. This is my first real attempt at anything fiction. Anyways this is a bit longer than my usual posts as well. Enjoy.

The Prince And His Garden

Many years ago, there was a prince, named Ulrich, who reigned over a village in the middle of a great forest. Prince Ulrich lived in a small but luxurious castle. The Prince however was far more interested in his garden than he was in his castle. He spent countless hours tending the garden and its various shrubs, herbs, flowers, trees, vines, and bushes. The garden itself was beautiful. It had such fascinating sights and smells that everyone who visited it said it was the most marvelous garden they had ever seen.

The Prince lived alone in his castle with his faithful servant and his only daughter, Sandra. Sandra was a young girl with fiery red hair and a very sudden temper. She didn’t have many friends. The parents of other children were afraid of what might happen if their child accidentally hurt the Prince’s only daughter. So they told their children to stay away from her. This meant that Sandra spent a lot of her time in the castle playing by herself. She was usually quite rambunctious and liked to run through the halls and bang pots and pans together in the kitchen. Her father would have been bothered by this behavior, but he was always outside in his garden. Sandra used to trying to play with her Father. But, whenever she tried he would be too busy or get angry at her for stepping on his tulips and eventually he would commander her to go back and play inside. Sandra also liked to play practical jokes. She would often put tacks on chairs or pour salt into someones drinks. The victim of these pranks was usually Grimwall, the family servant.

Grimwall was many years old and had ragged gray hair. His eyes were deep and seemed to sink back into his head. He had a large crooked nose and a pointed chin. His body hunched so that his head always seemed to be poking forward. Grimwall served the Prince for many years. In fact Grimwall served him from the moment the prince had been born. He had seen the Prince grow up and knew his whole life and all his secrets. He was a patient man and even put up with the mean pranks Sandra played on him.

This is a story about Prince Ulrich’s garden and a deadly danger that lived there. The danger grew until one day it struck viciously. This is the story of that attack.

One night as the Prince was about to prepare for sleep a knock echoed out from his door. “Come in” said the prince. The door opened to reveal Grimwall’s hunched figure.

“Erm, Your ‘ighness” the servant said, “some visitors ‘ave arrived.”

“That’s odd,” said the prince. “I did not think we had any guests coming this month.”

“We don’t, Your ‘ighness. These are unexpected visitors. They say their carriage has broken down. They walked along the road and Your ‘ighness’s castle was the first spot they came across.”

“How very intriguing.” The Prince put his jacket back on and walked to a full length mirror. “I wonder where they came from, did they happen to mention it? How many of them are there?”

“They did not mention, I could ask em, if you wish. There are only two travelers, a woman and er daughter I believe.”

“Very good. Prepare some warm tea and food for them. They will be staying with us, until they can continue their travels. Sit them in the dining hall and inform them that I shall be with them shortly.”

At that Grimwall bowed and exited the door, while the Prince continued to examine himself in the mirror. “E’s always cared too much about ‘ow people seem ‘im,” the servant grumbled as he hobbled down a long corridor.

“’is ‘ighness will be right with you. If you would be so kind as to follow me. I’ll fix you some tea while you wait. ‘ere let me take your cloaks as well.” It was only after the visitors removed their cloaks that Grimwall noticed how lovely they were. The elder of the two was slender with long chestnut hair and sharp, discerning eyes. She held herself confidently. Her daughter was younger, just as beautiful, with wide blue eyes. But the daughter was as timid as the mother was confident.

The two visitors were just beginning to enjoy their tea in the dinning room when the Prince entered. Grimwall, who was standing in a corner attentively, stepped forward and announced, “’is ‘ighness, Prince Ulrich.”

“Welcome to my humble Castle. I hope Grimwall has made you as comfortable as possible,” said the prince.

“We are quite comfortable. Thank you so much for taking us in. I hope we are not imposing”

“No, no, you certainly are not. I am always open to a little company. I wish I could have had more time so that I might be more presentable, and so that you would have received a proper welcome. But I am curious, who you are and how you came here?”

“My name is Ophelia, I am an emissary of the Marquis de Observia and this is my daughter Claire. I was traveling north to propose a trade agreement with the fur trappers there. Our carriage was carrying us through your woods when a wheel hit a stone and bent it’s axle. We then proceeded on foot for several miles until we arrived at your doorstep.”

“How terribly inconvenient. We will take the village blacksmith to your carriage tomorrow to asses the damage. Until it can be repaired, you shall be my guests.” Bending down and looking at

Claire, he said, “I have a daughter about your age. She will be very glad to have a play mate.”

Claire smiled and then hid behind her hands shyly.

“Your Highness is a most gracious host. We are certainly indebted to you.”

“Nonsense. It will be nice to have some guests for a short while, especially a guest in the noble profession of an emissary. Tell me do you like gardens?”

“I do enjoy them.”

“Splendid, splendid. Tomorrow then, I must show you the gardens. They are spectacular. I tend to them personally. I wouldn’t even trust the best gardner in the world with the plants around this castle. I grow many peculiar and rare species that require special skills to cultivate. But I would bore you if I merely talked to you about them, you must see them to get the full experience. I am sure you are tired from your journey as well. Grimwall will show you to your rooms.”

Ophelia stood and bowed, and Claire timidly imitated her. Then they followed Grimwall out of the room and up a long staircase. “You two got off lucky. ‘is ‘ighness can talk the ear of a rabbit, when ‘e gets going about ‘is garden. Though you are in for a treat, seeing as it is ‘ighly fantastical. Well, ‘ere is your accommodations. If you need anything pull this rope. Breakfast will be served at eight in the morning.”

“What does the rope do?” a small voice asked as Grimwall was about to leave.

“So you do ‘ave a voice. Well, Miss Claire, that rope is attached on the other end to a bell in my room, when you pull it my bell rings and I’ll know you need something.”

As Grimwall left and closed the door Claire looked around the room. It wasn’t a very large, in fact it seemed small, because most of the room was filled with two big beds covered with thick comforters and fluffy pillows. She walked up to one of the beds and flung herself down on it. “I’ve never slept in a Castle before and this bed is twice as soft as mine.”

“Yes, dear. It will be a treat for you to stay here. Just remember that we are guests and should treat our host with the upmost respect.”

“Mommy, the Prince scares me a little.”

“You mean Grimwall? You shouldn’t be scared of someone because of how they look.”

“No, not Grimwall. I actually kind of like him, he’s friendly and honest. It’s just the Prince he acts so important. It scares me and he dresses so fancy.”

“I’m sure he was just doing it to impress us as guests. Just be polite and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“His teeth, mommy, did you see his teeth?”

“No dear what about them?”

“They were rotten. Everything else about him was handsome, but his teeth, they were icky.”

“Remember what I just said about judging someone because of how they look? Besides its time for you to get ready for bed.”

In the morning Claire and Ophelia came down to a dinner table full of sausages, pancakes, fruits, eggs, and bacon. The Prince was already sitting at the head of the table and three plates were empty.

“Come, both of you, please sit. Eat whatever you like.”

“Anything to drink tea, coffee, milk, juice?” Asked Grimwall as he appeared from the kitchen.

“I’ll have some tea and my daughter will have some milk, please,” replied Ophelia.

Just then a little girl surrounded by what looked like a bush of red hair entered the room. She was rubbing her eyes and yawning as she walked in. When she saw the two guests, she stopped. Then she ran straight up to Claire and standing inches from her face, loudly asked, “Who are you?”

“My name’s Claire”

“What are you doing in my Castle? How long will you be here?”

The Prince laughed, and with slight embarrassment said, “Sandra, be nice to our guests. No need to interrogate them. Ophelia, Claire, this is my daughter Sandra.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Ophelia said.

From that point the conversation turned to boring adult topics. While the two girls ate, Sandra was staring intently at Claire who just looked at her food and only occasionally glanced up.

 

At the end of the meal the Prince looked up at Grimwall. “Ride into the village and bring the blacksmith here.”

“At once, Your ‘ighness.” Grimwall said departing.

Then the Prince turned guests with a smile and said, “Now I’ll bring you to the gardens. Sandra you can come along if you’d like.”

“All he cares about is his garden.” Sandra whispered to Claire, as everyone headed outside.

As they stepped outside Ophelia and Claire were stunned. The garden was beautiful. It seemed to stretch out forever. There were large trees, there were sculptures cut out of bushes, there were stone walkways lined with exotic and unusual flowers. There was even a bridge across a small stream made from two trees mended together into a low arch. Everything seemed fascinating and all the colors and blooms seemed to be of the brightest purples, reds, yellows, blues, and greens they had ever seen. As they walked the Prince pointed to and explained many of the plants.

“Here are the popping petunias. These flowers spit their seeds as high as they can to spread them.” Then he passed a row of trees with wispy branches and a hole in the trunk of each one. “Whistling-willows. I’ve planted them in such an order that when the wind blows from the north they sing a wonderful tune. Jealous juniper trees have to be planted alone in a large pot otherwise they will die. And they always try to fall on the other plant in the pot when they do. Here are some of my prize plants.” There were tall metallic shining flowers swaying in front of them. “Silken sunflowers. Here are the hairy hedges, whose leaves are thin, long and, well, feel like hair.”

Sandra pulled some of the hairy leaves off the plant and used them to tickle Claire when she wasn’t looking.

“This is a meat-eating mandrake.” Ophelia and Claire watched as the Prince took a napkin out of his pocket and unwrapped a scrap of sausage out of it. He dropped the piece of mean down and instantly the all the plant’s flat open leaves surrounded it. “It usually only gets a passing cricket or caterpillar, so this is a treat for him. The plant’s roots are very useful for healing.”

“Would it eat me?” Clair asked with a bit of fear.

The Prince laughed heartily. “No, there’s nothing to worry from this plant. It’s far too small to cause you any harm.”

They continued to walk through the garden and visit the croaking carrots, the barking dogwoods, and the walking walnut tree. They passed quickly by the stinky strawberries and the crying crape myrtles, though the Prince wanted to talk about them longer. They tasted some ballooning bananas which would float away if you let them go. As the Prince was describing the health benefits of eating popping-berry seeds, a voice interrupted him.

“Erm, Addor, the Blacksmith your ‘ighness.”

Turning the prince saw the hunched figure of Grimwall next to a large man with a shaved head, bulging muscles, and a formidable mustache. “Ah, yes, the matter of the carriage.” said the Prince looking disappointed. “Thank you, Grimwall. Saddle some horses. Ophelia, Addor and I will go examine the damage to the carriage.”

As the adults walked off towards the stables, Sandra sighed and groaned, “Thank goodness. Now all the boring talk about boring plants is over.”

“I thought it was interesting. I’ve never seen such plants,” Claire quietly responded.

“Ugh, people always do. But they don’t have to hear about it all the time. ‘Puning pruning this. We need more rain that. There aren’t enough minerals in the ground that. Blah, blah blah blah blah.’ It’s all my father ever talks about. Its probably all he ever thinks about. He’d probably marry a plant if he could.”

“What’s behind that large row of hedges?”

“Oooh that’s where he spends most of his time. His most favorite plant is there, Tiata. He doesn’t show her to visitors, or even talk to strangers about her. But he won’t shut up about her, when its just me or Grimwall. I’m so worried about Tiata. I wonder if she’s going to make it through the winter.’ He cares more about her than he does about me.” Sandra got really quiet after that.

“Did he say that to you?”

“No, but I can just tell. He spends more time with that stupid plant than me.”

“I’m sure he loves you more than a plant.”

“What do you know? You don’t know what my Dad’s like. I suppose you’ll want to see it. We’ll have to look at it while he’s away. He doesn’t like people snooping near it.”

Sandra bounced off towards the hedges her fiery red hair swinging back and forth. Claire looked around the garden and then followed after her. At a break in the hedges, Sandra turned and said, “Stop right there. You can look from here but don’t get closer.”

Claire’s wide blue eyes stared at a tall plant with one large stalk. The top of the stalk curled down and a single violet-red fruit hung there. All around the stalk grew curling vines. An iron fence surrounded the plant.

“It doesn’t look special,” Claire said.

“Well it means the world to him.”

“Why does it have a fence around it?”

“My Dad says he put it there to keep the plant from hurting people, but I think its just to protect his stupid Tiata.”

“The plant can hurt people?”

“Yes. If you get to close those vines will whip you. WHIP, WHIP WHIP.” Sandra shouted trying to scare Claire.

“Why would anyone keep a plant that could hurt people?”

“I don’t know maybe so he can marry it one day.”

“It’s not the plant e’s concerned with. It’s the fruit,” the girls turned and were surprised to see Grimwall standing behind them. “The plant’s fruit has a nectar that is so delicious, so sweet, that once you taste it, you never forget it. After a while you get ‘ungry for it, so that no other food seems appealing, you just want more of that fruit.”

“Is that why his teeth are rotten?” Claire said.

“Yes it is, Little Miss. The fruits pleases your sense of smell and taste, but it rots your teeth and it burns your stomach. Its a nasty piece of work that fruit. But you children shouldn’t be ‘ere, come into the Castle and I’ll fix you up some ‘ot chocolate.”

The girls followed him into the Castle, drank their hot chocolate and played. Later Prince Ulrich and Ophelia returned. The blacksmith said that it would take at least a week to repair the carriage because he had to order a part from a neighboring village. Although she wouldn’t admit it Sandra was glad to have another playmate in the Castle.

Three days came and went, and the girls grew closer and closer. On the fourth day they were kicking a bouncing broccoli bulb to each other outside. “I bet I can kick this higher than you can,” Sandra shouted and gave it a big kick. The bouncing broccoli bulb soared into the air and landed right behind Claire only to bounce back into the air. Claire chased it as the bulb continued to bounce until it leapt over the high hedge in the middle of the garden. Claire stopped and just stared.

“Well, what are you waiting for. We should go get it.” Sandra said as she caught up with Claire.

“I don’t know maybe we should just go inside and play.”

“Don’t be a fraidy cat, we’ll just get it and then keep playing.”

But when they entered the hedge they both stopped. The bulb was sitting inside the iron fence among the deadly coiled vines of the Tiata plant. Sandra stomped her foot. “Ugh, I hate this plant so much. It’s stupid, stupid, stupid and it’s all he cares about.” She picked up a stone and threw it at the plant and yelled. She picked up another stone one stepped forward and threw it. She kept throwing stones until she was right beside the fence. Then she broke down and sobbed. “Why does he care so much about it? He doesn’t even notice me. He doesn’t even see me.”

Just then a vine whipped out between the bars of the iron fence and wrapped around Sandra’s arm. It tugged her towards the other vines but she was caught against the fence. Claire ran forward and grabbed Sandra’s other arm. She pulled and pulled but couldn’t move her. Sandra shrieked in pain as the sharp vine cut into her arm. Claire jumped away and ran as fast as she could toward the Castle. “Help! Help!” she yelled as loud as her lungs would let her.

The prince bolted out of the Castle just as Claire reached it. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“It’s Sandra, she’s caught, she’s caught by the plant, the plant with nasty vines.”

A dark look came over the Prince, like a shadow passed over his face. He ran towards the large hedges. When he arrived he saw his daughter screaming in agony, the vine still wrapped around her arm. He began to panic. He didn’t know what to do or how to set her free.

Just then Grimwall arrived. He carried with him a sheath with a long blade inside it.

“Your sword” he said handing it to the Prince.

The Prince drew the sword and ran at the plant. He swung the blade down cutting the vine that had entangled his daughter. Half of the fine stayed wrapped around her arm, while the other half recoiled behind the iron fence. The Prince dropped his sword and picked up his daughter. “Gather some ever-healing aloe and cut some of the meat-eating mandrake root, for an ointment.”

Grimwall departed obediently.

The Prince turned towards his daughter and started to weep. “I never wanted it to hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you stay away? I warned you to stay away.”

“I didn’t think you cared about me,” his daughter said in almost a whisper. “I thought you didn’t have enough love for me and the plant.”

“Of course I care about you. I love you. How could I be so foolish to keep such a dangerous thing near children. If only it didn’t taste so sweet. If only I didn’t crave it so much. I cared too much about Tiata. I see that now, but I love you Sandra, you must know that. You must believe that.”

The Prince laid his daughter on a table in the Castle and began to unwind the vine from around her arm. It left a nasty scar. Grimwall entered with the ever-healing aloe and meat-eating mandrake root. The prince prepared a balm out of them and put it on the girl’s arm. The balm soothed her wounds and helped her to relax.

Grimwall approached the Prince. “You know what you ave to do. You can’t let it go on living after it did that to your girl. You ave to take care of it.”

“I know” said the prince. “I just wish I could taste the fruit one more time.” He licked his lips. “It’s almost ripe again. I’d destroy it after that of course it’s too dangerous to keep around permanently, but just for a little bit it shouldn’t hurt anyone else.”

Grimwall stared at him silently.

“Oh, blast it all. Who am I kidding? It has to be destroyed and I have to be the one who does it. It’s caused too much pain and suffering. It’s too dangerous, it isn’t worth anything.” The Prince rolled back his sleeves. Sandra saw that he had many scars on his own arms like the ones she just received. Some scars seemed old and faded, some were fresh and new.

The prince marched out of the Castle and Grimwall trailed behind him. At the edge of the large hedge he picked up his sword again. He proceeded up to the iron fence and opened the gate. Then he dashed into the gate and madly started attacking the vines. The vines began lashing back at him whipping him and wrapping around him, but every time they did, he would cut it off. He kept hacking and cutting, despite receiving many scars. Then all that was left was the single stalk with the one piece of fruit. Suddenly the fruit dropped and another smaller fruit instantly bloomed in its place. The fruit that dropped began to smell fragrantly. Even Grimwall felt it was the most beautiful smell he had ever smelled. The prince looked at the fruit lying on the ground. He looked at it with longing, and desire. But suddenly it seemed as though he was shaken. He looked at the fruit with anger and ran towards the Castle. A second later he returned with a torch. Amazingly the plant was already beginning to grow new vines. He took the torch and lit the fruit, the bud and the stalk on fire. The whole plant shivered and then died.

Panting, ragged, and bleeding in a few places, the Prince turned to Grimwall. “It’s finished.”

“Make sure it’s seeds don’t take root in this garden again, your ‘ighness. I would ‘ate to see you ‘ave to go through this again.”

From that day forward Prince Ulrich and Sandra grew closer and closer. Sandra became a little less wild. Claire and Ophelia left after their Carriage was repaired, but they always stopped to visit whenever they passed by the castle. And Grimwall made sure that the Prince never let anything that dangerous grow in his garden again.

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Daryl

I’m riding in a truck with a 6’8″ black man driving and a little white guy sandwiched between us. The little white guy is almost 50 but he looks older. His hair is white and straw like. The lines on his face are deep. He’s spent about 10 of the last 15 years in jail. He went in originally for crack-cocaine and then had a few parole and other issues extend his sentence. His name is Daryl. The black guys sitting next to him has a shaved bald head and a thin goatee with a little bit of gray peppered in. His name is Big Dog. He’s asking Daryl about his life. He’s trying to figure out where he is spiritually. Big Dog asked me to witness to Daryl a few minutes earlier and I had muttered my way through a presentation of the gospel. But there’s a big difference between the way I talk to Daryl and the way Big Dog talks to him. When I talked to Daryl I was talking to him about a subject, the power of Jesus in providing salvation and the necessity of relying upon him for both salvation and sanctification. When Big Dog talks to Daryl he engages him, he challenges him, he finds out where he is spiritually and tries to take him deeper. He’s also harsher on Daryl, he doubts him more often and doesn’t take him at his word all the time. But he’s talking with Daryl, instead of talking at Daryl like I was doing. I notice this tendency of mine and try to correct it, I remind myself I need to find out and care about the person, before I can make any real difference in their life.

Big Dog has credibility with Daryl. He’s spent time in jail, done drugs, had prostitutes, and probably used to live a life worse than Daryl did, before he turned his life around. Now, he’s on fire for Jesus and he cares about and engages people most Christians are afraid of. That’s why I like Big Dog, he encourages me and puts me in positions to talk to these people as well. The type of people most of us would lock our doors to, if we saw them walking near our car on the sidewalk. These are the type of people Big Dog hires to work for himself. He hires them so to give them some work, (I also discovered that getting out of jail can be very expensive) but also so he can hammer them with the gospel. They know he cares for them financially and spiritually.

One of the main points Big Dog was trying to get across to Daryl is that he has to invest personal time with God, not just go to Church, not just rely on what other people say about God. He tell Daryl that if he’s interested in an attractive women, he wouldn’t send someone else to talk to her. He’d take the initiative. Big Dog reminds him that God’s the same way. If you want to get close to him, you can’t expect your pastor or your friends to do the legwork. You have to do it yourself. He tells Daryl to read his bible and to spend time praying. Now I’m starting to feel guilty. I think back over the week and all the quite times I’ve missed. I think about how I don’t really have the personal authority to recommend a disciplined prayer life. This is where I begin to see my hypocrisy. I begin to see how easy it is to think that the crack addict, the inmate, the ex-con is the one that really needs to be reading the Bible, praying, seeking God. And how easy it is to excuse myself from failing to do the same thing. Because deep in my heart I think I’m better than them, I think they need to be ‘fixed’ more than I do. Instead of realizing that any moral difference between persons is infinitesimally small compared to the the moral difference between God and me. I’m also reminded that the primary purposes of these pursuits are God’s glory, not to make ‘better, cleaner, nicer’ people. I must pursue God because he is my goal, my desire, not because I want to reform. I must seeking a relationship with the God who can change lives, not merely seeking a life change from God. He must be the primary pursuit. But I get distracted from that far too often.

We eat lunch with Daryl and hear more about his life. He’s been married twice and divorced twice. He seems pretty honest, he admits that he treated his first wife poorly. He knows he’s messed up his life, through drugs and other mistakes. But he has a strong sense of morality. He knows what’s right and wrong, he just hasn’t always chosen what’s right. He seems like he’s trying to now though. After a long lunch conversation, he and Big Dog head out. But not before we give Daryl a Bible. He promises he’ll read his. I hope I read mine.

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