I’ve always hated documentaries.
Unfortunately, it was inevitable that I’d be stuck, listening to some random bored voice-actor-to-be monologue about something neither of us care about at least once and a while.
There I was, doodling in my notebook in third period science class when the course of my day was changed forever.
The dreaded substitute science teacher.
A guaranteed documentary. I did my best to be subtle as I reached for my earbuds and phone stashed in my backpack, but I was too slow.
“In ancient times, spore blossoms were a sign of good luck,” the voice actor began, with no ounce of boredom in his voice. “This mentality has withstood the test of time and is still common among locals today.”
The screen faded up to a dramatic view of a field full of flowers unlike anything I had seen before. The camera panned to a stream running away from a shallow cave full of light.
“People across the globe have made pilgrimages to this gorgeous park to wish in the cave’s water pool,” the pool in question appeared on screen. More strange flowers covered the ceiling, dusting the air with green pollen. “It was said if you bathed in the spore filled water, any wish you made would come true. For those who didn’t particularly have a wish, the story was changed to have extra luck for the following year.”
A wish? Extra luck? That sounds exactly like what I need! My eyes flicker to my left. Just getting a glimpse of them is enough to get my heart pounding.
“Unfortunately, those stories were put to rest when it was found that spores dissolved in water and then allowed to dry are a major skin irritant.”
Nevermind then…
“However, maidens tales like these are difficult to disprove. Now they say any couple that travels here will be blessed by the stars.” My eyes flicker across the room again. They’re looking at me, smirking. I can feel a blush coming on and focus myself on doodling again. How do they always know exactly what I’m thinking?
“Now, Canolet Garden is the venue for many a wedding and romantic stroll.”
That’s it. The transformation into a tomato is complete.
Three years later
Who decided truth or dare would be a good idea?
Oh right. I did.
I remember the moment my name was called, cold dread settled in my stomach. Here it came, the question I regret enabling. “Truth or dare?”
Bonfires with friends was a great idea. That way, they couldn’t see me blush in the orange, flickering light.
“Truth.”
I had already been forced to run around the forest, yell ‘I love nature’ as loud as I could, then hug three trees as a dare, I needed a break.
“If you had to pick only one place to ever travel, where would you go?”
I thought the lighting was playing tricks on me. I could have sworn they leaned forward as if eager for my answer.
I did say I’d tell the truth… what harm could there be? I was sure no one else payed any attention to that stupid documentary from years ago.
“Canolet: in Japan,” I said. “The flowers there are beautiful, I can just imagine the smell.”
The rest of the group just laughs and continues on with the game but I was stuck… Another trick of the light… I could have sworn I saw them smile at me. It was so clear… but why would they be smiling? They don’t know what that place actually means, right?
Yet again, I was thankful for the fire making it impossible to see my blush.
3 months later
Apparently you didn't need spores soaked in water to be lucky.
Two round trip tickets to Canolet, as well as an invoice for 3 nights in a campsite just outside the gardens arrived in my mailbox one afternoon with no return address or any clue who they were from.
Of course, I invited them to come with me.
The scent of the flowers was strong even miles from the gardens. According to our taxi driver, the flowers were common through the entire wooded countryside, but none produced spores like those in the gardens.
"Something to do with the moisture being trapped in the cave," he had said.
Now we stand in silence, watching spores drift from the flower covered ceiling into the water below. A small waterfall trickled through a hole in the ceiling, tossing water in the air to dance with the green dust.
They slowly put an arm around me and pull me closer to them. I turn towards them and suddenly I realized.
“You bought the tickets, didn’t you?” I say. They just smile and bury their face in my hair.
Maybe I’ve always known.
They’ve always cared.
Both about me and Canolet Garden.
Unfortunately, it was inevitable that I’d be stuck, listening to some random bored voice-actor-to-be monologue about something neither of us care about at least once and a while.
There I was, doodling in my notebook in third period science class when the course of my day was changed forever.
The dreaded substitute science teacher.
A guaranteed documentary. I did my best to be subtle as I reached for my earbuds and phone stashed in my backpack, but I was too slow.
“In ancient times, spore blossoms were a sign of good luck,” the voice actor began, with no ounce of boredom in his voice. “This mentality has withstood the test of time and is still common among locals today.”
The screen faded up to a dramatic view of a field full of flowers unlike anything I had seen before. The camera panned to a stream running away from a shallow cave full of light.
“People across the globe have made pilgrimages to this gorgeous park to wish in the cave’s water pool,” the pool in question appeared on screen. More strange flowers covered the ceiling, dusting the air with green pollen. “It was said if you bathed in the spore filled water, any wish you made would come true. For those who didn’t particularly have a wish, the story was changed to have extra luck for the following year.”
A wish? Extra luck? That sounds exactly like what I need! My eyes flicker to my left. Just getting a glimpse of them is enough to get my heart pounding.
“Unfortunately, those stories were put to rest when it was found that spores dissolved in water and then allowed to dry are a major skin irritant.”
Nevermind then…
“However, maidens tales like these are difficult to disprove. Now they say any couple that travels here will be blessed by the stars.” My eyes flicker across the room again. They’re looking at me, smirking. I can feel a blush coming on and focus myself on doodling again. How do they always know exactly what I’m thinking?
“Now, Canolet Garden is the venue for many a wedding and romantic stroll.”
That’s it. The transformation into a tomato is complete.
Three years later
Who decided truth or dare would be a good idea?
Oh right. I did.
I remember the moment my name was called, cold dread settled in my stomach. Here it came, the question I regret enabling. “Truth or dare?”
Bonfires with friends was a great idea. That way, they couldn’t see me blush in the orange, flickering light.
“Truth.”
I had already been forced to run around the forest, yell ‘I love nature’ as loud as I could, then hug three trees as a dare, I needed a break.
“If you had to pick only one place to ever travel, where would you go?”
I thought the lighting was playing tricks on me. I could have sworn they leaned forward as if eager for my answer.
I did say I’d tell the truth… what harm could there be? I was sure no one else payed any attention to that stupid documentary from years ago.
“Canolet: in Japan,” I said. “The flowers there are beautiful, I can just imagine the smell.”
The rest of the group just laughs and continues on with the game but I was stuck… Another trick of the light… I could have sworn I saw them smile at me. It was so clear… but why would they be smiling? They don’t know what that place actually means, right?
Yet again, I was thankful for the fire making it impossible to see my blush.
3 months later
Apparently you didn't need spores soaked in water to be lucky.
Two round trip tickets to Canolet, as well as an invoice for 3 nights in a campsite just outside the gardens arrived in my mailbox one afternoon with no return address or any clue who they were from.
Of course, I invited them to come with me.
The scent of the flowers was strong even miles from the gardens. According to our taxi driver, the flowers were common through the entire wooded countryside, but none produced spores like those in the gardens.
"Something to do with the moisture being trapped in the cave," he had said.
Now we stand in silence, watching spores drift from the flower covered ceiling into the water below. A small waterfall trickled through a hole in the ceiling, tossing water in the air to dance with the green dust.
They slowly put an arm around me and pull me closer to them. I turn towards them and suddenly I realized.
“You bought the tickets, didn’t you?” I say. They just smile and bury their face in my hair.
Maybe I’ve always known.
They’ve always cared.
Both about me and Canolet Garden.
