- “Don’t forget the marigolds, Roderick. They are looking a little crowded. Pick some and I’ll make you some tummy tea later, okay?” The seventy-three year old woman called out with a smile from her porch, comfortably sat in a softly lined rocking chair. She knew there was no real need to remind her assistant on what work needed to be done, but hey, it always was a joy speaking to the handsome young man when he had the time,so why not?
And indeed, to her, he was a specimen to behold. He was gorgeous to her, with long purple hair drawn up high onto his head in a messy bun and bright green eyes that always seemed to have a twinkle of happiness hidden there. And that physique… Nothing but muscle! Why, were she forty years younger she’d certainly consider tapping that. But even she noticed that the happiness never seemed to reach his eyes lately, not since his sister and her children left their home. As much as Mrs. Jones enjoyed being nosy, she knew this was not the place and time to do so. Roderick required something cathartic to work through and even though her garden was just fine, she knew this kinda work always seemed to bring her dear friend some peace.
Roderick had his hands wrist deep in the tall blooms, ripping out weeds when Mrs. Jones called his name, one he only responded to with a thumbs up and a smile. She was right, he didn’t need to be told what to do, and he certainly already had a knack for ensuring her garden was happy and healthy. This wasn’t the first time that he’d come over to her house on his day off to weed and laydown dirt and seeds. With his help, his elderly neighbor’s garden looked amazing, almost more so than his own garden next door. And while he was a little jealous, he was proud in the fact that he could bring such happiness to a dear, old friend of his.
Though he remained quiet, his loyal companion Staccato, a five year old Labradoodle barked his own happy response, bounding out from his side to give Mrs. Jones a soft press of his nose against her knee. It was his approach that suddenly made Mrs. Jones stand up, smiling. “Oh, you boys stay right here, I’mma whip up some nice lemonade for you sweeties.”
With a gentle push of the excited dog’s head, she retreated inside, hoping that maybe a little time alone among the flowers would give Roderick a bit more solace than her presence could right now.
The moment the back porch door closed, Staccato barked loudly, causing the young man to look up, only having a split second before the dog disappeared around the side of Mrs. Jones’ house.
“Hey, buddy,wait! What are you up to?” In an instant, Roderick was upon on his feet, racing to make sure that his normally well behaved pup wouldn’t get into any trouble. While the yard did have a fence about it, he knew that the labradoodle could easily jump over the side if he truly wanted to, and just as Roderick didn’t feel himself, Staccato was restless.
Once at his side, the young man sighed, shaking his head in tired disappointment as he watched Staccato dig his paws over and over again no what was once a very nicely done bush of blue hydrangeas. But it didn’t seem like the dog was mindlessly digging up roots or making a general mess that dogs sometimes were likely to do. No… He was digging something up, something that glinted and glittered even through the dirt and the moving paws.
“Come on, boy, lemme see what you have there…” Obediently, Staccato stepped away, giving a boof of a bark before sitting back on his hind legs, tail wagging excitedly and expectantly. Giving the pooch a quick pat on the head, Roderick dug his own hands into the earth, quickly clearing the item free of any further dirt or filth… And there it was, shimmering in the light. It was simple, really, a golden hand spade, bent slightly in the neck, with a symbol, perhaps a sun, right on it’s head.
How strange it was for it to be here! It wasn’t as if Roderick hasn’t been over here just a few minutes ago, laying down mulch. Upon reaching out and touching it the spade, a soft voice whispered in his mind.
Manú… the tool fell from Roderick’s hand with a dull thud against the ground, having slipped from his grasp in surprise. He did not shout or scream in fear as he stumbled back from the tool, eyes wide in astonishment at whatever it was he thought he saw. It felt right, however, something that wasn’t meant to be feared, but treasured. Something that belonged to him and him alone.
Again, he picked up the spade, this time only squeezing it tighter as he once again heard Manú… whispered softly to him. He knew this name from somewhere… And he… Was it his own? Roderick stared at the tool as he stood up again, grasp loosening then tightening around the handle as he tried to figure out what it was, besides the obvious. This time when he heard that name called out so softly to it, he repeated it back out loud.
“Manú?” In an instant, a small burst of light came over him, bright enough to even cause a flash on the wall of the house, despite the blaring sun above. And from there, Roderick winced, shielding his eyes from the light before realizing that light came from himself. His clothes… They had changed into something far more odd and light, a vest covered in flowers and everything so warm and breezy that it felt like the gentle breeze that came through the gardens could carry it away. Even more strangely his shoes were gone, leaving his bare feet gripping the dirt below him.
“Roderick, dear, where’d you run off to? Ya’ll ain’t gonna leave a poor ol’ woman’s garden a mess are you?” For the briefest of moments, Roderick, no, Manú… had forgotten just exactly where he had been. There was the faintest of glimpses of a world that he knew, covered in endless flowers, but for now, he could not go there. He could not stop and try to figure out what exactly was going on… Not when Mrs. Jones was whistling for him. As quickly as he had become Manú, he was Roderick again, and quickly tucked the spade into his toolbelt for inspection later. As much as he wanted to figure out what he saw, who this Manú was, it would have to wait… And it was going to bother him for a long time as he did so.
“I’m coming, Mrs. Jones!"
Word Count: 1155
