The cherry blossom petals flit down, covering the earth in a light pink blanket, sparrows singing lullabies. A slight breeze rustles the lush grass and makes flowers sway in a hypnotizing dance. Innocent laughter of children permeates the peaceful atmosphere, proving that indeed, spring is the time of new life. Beams of sunlight penetrating the canopy of leaves, brings an ethereal glow to the surroundings.
Your gaze follows an old man wearing a pristine suit, pushing an equally aged woman on a wheelchair. Her snow white hair is bunched atop her head in an intricate knot. A wedding band glints in the sunlight as she applies lipstick with trembling hands. The man bends down with difficulty and cups her hand in his larger, wrinkled one, helping her swipe the colour across her lips. Placing her wheelchair beneath the shade of a tree, he kisses her forehead and sits down beside her. They converse merrily as you avert your eyes, not wanting to intrude.
Seven months later, the garden is devoid of life. No movements, no sound. The trees are bare; no leaves to protect them from the harshness of winter. The strong wind howls around you as you wrap your coat more securely. The once joyful, lively park is now a wasteland, an expansive tundra for miles. The murky water in the fountain has frozen, the coins representing wishes trapped under the surface. A movement catches your eye.
The same aged man from several months ago is sitting on the cold ground, an empty wheelchair beside him. He exudes a jaded aura and his orbs no longer sparkle as he holds a single white rose in his hand, the thorns painting his fingers red. You are about to ask him where his companion is, when a lone tear escapes his melancholy eyes. And there you have your answer.
*This was one of the top 5 stories at ChaiChalk’s 300 Word Stories competition
