TCT+Tess

The Gardener’s Tale

Lore of old are oft exaggerations, Truthless tall tales built off short foundations. But gardeners never fib or fabricate; On a valid story, a friend relates That far out west, a town called Kumquat Flats Was home to three-and-twenty spoilèd brats. And Doris, once a Siren[1], lived alone (Her late husband’s memory plagued the crone.) Frequently, the children would come to play And dance in her yard on the sunny days. The sight of them would fill her heart with joy, Her mind saw images of that lost boy She’d birthed and raised and loved and watched grow on[2], Surely //this// was not her life’s denouement! Day after day she fervently did yearn That someday her estranged son would return[3].

The other children aged, as children do, And as these mischievous rapscallions grew, They thought up nasty tricks that could be played, And even stole the old girl’s garden spade! One fateful morning, the widow awoke To find another of their wicked jokes. Her precious piece, an antique garden gnome, Was smashed across the porch that it called home[4]! “Enough!” she cried, and cry and cry she did, Never again would Doris love a kid.

Now you’d think perhaps these brats were finished, Or, at least, their appetites diminished A broken gnome, a broken heart, forsooth! No prank tames the rascality of youth. On a similar morning, Doris caught A boy in her garden, the little snot, Gleefully trampling her precious roses. Tainted with rage, the old hag’s eyes she closes. She opened her mouth, ready to reprove And as she did, by fear the boy was moved To run -- as fast, as far as he could go Not far he went[5], his short legs apropos. For as he ran, his appendages shrank, His skin hardened, his countenance went blank.[6] The floral assailant a pest no more, A gnome he had become, new lawn decor! A newfound power had graced the widow, She longed to use it, and use it she did[7], oh, In bushes nearby dwelt the pesky crew Whose fate, Doris thought, was long overdue. One by one, the vandals were remodeled, And the crone’s new ornaments were coddled.

This ability proved advantageous, Her porch was noticeably outrageous. When a trespasser came and made her mad, A gnome to her terrace the hag would add. Doris arranged these child-gnomes with some pride Around her house, upon the porch outside Where passers-by would wonder without fail If these enchanting statues were for sale. When asked to quote a price, the widow said, “They’re not for sale!” and shook her old grey head. “But I must have one!” buyers would beseech, She sold them for five hundred florins each. By dint of these transactions, the old witch Became within a fortnight very rich.

Greed is human, the widow wanted more, So out she set to seek stock for her store[8]. Each corner of Kumquat Flats she scoured, Demand was high and her business flowered. With these profits came the glaring matter Of missing children and gossips’ chatter. The townsfolk tried to catch the abductor, Not seeing once the statue constructor. And little did the parents realize, They’d purchased their own kids in stony guise! Said Doris to herself, “I do declare, I’m now the country’s oldest millionaire.” As she grew in riches, poor grew her heart[9], ‘Till with her wealth she could not bear to part.

One day, a young man stepped into her yard Catching the aged miser off her guard. Because her sight had grown exceeding dim, She could not recognize that it was him. Old and alone, she could not recognize[10], That on her lawn, the apple of her eyes! And as the boy began to say, “I’m home!” His mother turned him to a garden gnome. Filled with remorse, she thought, “What have I done? I’ve turned to stone my long-lost darling son! What shall I do?” she heaved a heavy sigh And sought the aid of one who lived nearby.

This wizard, greatly renowned for his skill, Said, “you shall have your son back if you will Give up your fortune; you have seven days, Give it all to any by any ways.” Said the hag, “My wealth? My darling? My worth[11]?! Nay! I shan’t give up my place on this earth! I barely knew my son, so what is lost In having one more gnome with no more cost?” Unknown to her, this wizard had a son Who’d been ‘abducted’ while out having fun. He’d recognized the evil in the crone, And offered her that moment to atone. When she refused, the wizard had no choice But to for eternity silence her voice. Doris of Kumquat Flats was disappeared, Abduction children never again feared. Her estate was sold, there remained one gnome, A stone grey-haired female, that found no home.

[1] allusion [2] polysyndeton [3] foreshadowing [4] personification [5] litotes [6] asyndeton [7] anadiplosis [8] alliteration [9] chiasmus [10] mesarchia [11] anaphora