Once upon a time there was this young maiden who had a beautiful garden, She loved her garden more than anything in the world, It had been given to her by her ancestors. What the maiden didn’t know was that The garden had magical powers that kept her alive. Her garden was so beautiful that an evil ogre walked by one day and decided to steal it. And he did. He cast a spell over the maiden, so she didn’t know what was going on and he came every night, sometimes more than once a day to steal from her garden, Every time he came, He left in it’s place giant weeds so nothing could ever grow there again. When he was done he left. For a while the maiden was still under his spell but eventually she awoke, and found that she was no longer alive. Her garden was gone and when she looked out at the weeds that grew she wondered if there had ever been a garden. So lost was she that For years she couldn’t move, or live. It took many winters for her to begin to look out. Over the years the villagers, who loved the maiden very much, would bring flowers to plant in her garden, and she was able to cling to existence in that way. But eventually the weeds would overpower any seed that was brought into the garden. Until the maiden learned a new way of life. Learned to hate these weeds and everything that they stood for. She could no longer remember her old life, The one where she had had a beautiful garden. She hated the ogre for a while, but the maiden couldn’t hold hate for another creature in her heart. She couldn’t justify that hate, and so she hated the weeds instead. Hated them more and more every day for being so everpresent that they erased her memory of her garden.
Something had broken in the maiden and seemed to break again and again every time the weeds overpowered the things she planted. The things the villagers planted with love. Every time life began to glimmer inside of her, the weeds grew bigger. The poor maiden tried everything to free herself. She would chop the weeds as soon as they’d pop up, would try to bury them deeper and deeper so they wouldn’t be able to come to the surface. And there were wnters they didn’t surface in which the maiden believed she was finally rid of them. But they would always come back.
One day she stumbled accross a wise seer who told her she had to dig the weeds up. That the only way to get rid of them, to allow something to grow in her garden again was to dig every single weed up.
And so the maiden tried. She began with a small one but as she dug, a strange energy came from the weed and invaded the maiden’s body and mind. she found herself breaking a little at the memories of the flowers that grew once long ago where these weeds now stubbornly stood. She cried and cried and couldn’t stop. She thought maybe to dig things up hurt too much. She wanted to stop. She knew she’d never be able to get them all, to clear her whole garden. She wanted very badly to stop. and she did stop.
I don’t know what happens next.
