Flora slowly traversed her way home, in silence, in deep darkness, in the mist of the early winters. All she could think was of the mysterious voice that had teased her ears some hours ago.

Troding along Lake Varg, alone, at this time of the day is not as risky as you would expect it to be. However, the stillness of the winds created a sudden cease of all her thoughts. She reached out to the closure and swiftly unlocked the latch. In the stillness, she checked around the hedges and rooms.

"Miss, they instructed me to convey you that they had been waiting for your return and in vain, have left to the tea party before you."

Flora let a soft smile escape her stiffness. She replied to the protector,
"Anyways, I'm not going there. When would their return be?"
"In a couple of hours?"
"Then good for a break."

Thus saying, she bid the protector and left for her room. There was a silence of the winds, the plants and things that lined her way. A feeling of a strangeness climbed unto her. She stood rooted to the spot.

The precursor had meant to turn true. A pair of eyes constantly pricked her. She knew not, who it was, and continued to pretend so. She made her attempt to proceed.

"Miss, you have forgotten the key!", the protector raced up to her.
Turning around, she thanked him and received the key.

"It was unmindful of me, in spite of any confusions or illness, to make this mistake. Let it be the last."

Flora walked upto the tiny vestibule, hiding the garden view and promising, to take her to her room. The same eyes appeared before her. She nodded her head to the side and made her way past it.

All she had done, was to do what she had not wanted to. Was the mind tricking her? Or was it a misguidance? Maybe she had done only what she wanted to, but had went unnoticed.

Flora shoved away her thoughts, thinking it was the chance to relax. She hadn't done any mistake. Not one to her soul. Or perhaps it seemed to be one? Who could say, any predictor of true origin?

She let the door open and reached to the windows. There she could get a look of the below gardens. Her eyes fell upon the twisted, strong, adolescent jasmine tree, she had fancied. Beside it, her young neem tree looked to strive to reach the sky and play with its friends. It had grown in spite of all the grazing.

Now the winds returned, gently caressing the leaves, smiling, and conveying its return again. It seemed as though the plants rejoiced after a period of humidity. And Flora felt her old memories finding their way to her cortex.


#TheMeltingWorld

© TheSun