Serialized Original Fiction|”Down in the Garden” Part 1

Over the coming weeks, I will be posting a serialized version of my novella length original work of dark historical fantasy fiction “Down in the Garden.” Enjoy!

Down in the Garden Part 1

by Chloe Horning

“There’s going to be a storm,” Lammie says. Lammie always knows things, like when a storm is coming. So even though the sky is clear, and the March breeze mild, I shiver.

Lammie has big gray eyes that see things others do not. Her eyes are as gray as the pussy willow buds we are gathering. Every now and then, one of us snaps one off the stem and rubs it against the other’s cheek, giggling a little each time. 

My mother calls my sister by her middle name; “Elizabeth.” My father insists on calling her by her given name, which is “Lamia.”  When my sister learned the meaning of her name, she cried for a week; Lamia was a demon queen, said my father with pride, who ate the children of her enemies. Lammie cried, and said she didn’t want to eat babies. It was I who comforted her, by whispering in her ear. “We will call you Lammie,” I said. “It will be our secret. For whenever we say your name we may imagine a soft white lamb, and not a serpent queen.” This pacified her, and to me she has been Lammie ever since. 

I am the eldest of us two. I was born before my father became a Magician. At that time, he was only a Librarian, so my name is “Alexandria” after the city where there was a very great library in the days of antiquity.  Everyone calls me Alexandria, except for Lammie, who has called me “Anda” since she could first speak. My father often says that names have magical power. 

After the pussy willows, Lammie says that we should gather some of the early peppermint that is starting to put out leaves. 

“It will be good to make a calming tea, so that we can sleep tonight, with all the excitement in the house,” she says.

This is the sort of thing that Lammie thinks of doing.  I agree, and bend down to collect the sweet, fragrant leaves. When I look up, a dark gray cloud is rolling in, and a dark gray car is coming up the drive. 

Father’s friends are beginning to arrive. I feel my stomach turn a little, and Lammie’s eyes get wide. We both know that Father wants us to stay out of sight tonight. It is the eve of the Equinox, and the moon will be dark. He called it an “auspicious” day for him and his friends.  I did not know what that meant, so last night after dinner I looked it up in Father’s dictionary. The definition was: “conducive to success; favorable.”  What this means for Lammie and me, is that we are to remain quiet and unseen once the sun goes down. 

The branches rustle and bend as the dark clouds come closer. I draw my shawl around me. 

“Come,” I say to Lammie, “let’s go inside before the rain starts.”

We go to the kitchen door. There’s a woman from the village called Molly who comes to make Father his meals. She’s left us a soup and some brown bread for supper. We know that in the front room, there will be roasted meats on the sideboard, and other fine things for Father’s friends. 

I try to be angry that Lammie and I must content ourselves with the bones, but the soup is very good, so I find myself slurping happily soon enough.  The broth is flavorful, and it has fresh herbs, and some kind of toothsome hard grain. When I look up from my supper at last, I notice that Lammie has barely touched her soup. 

“What’s the matter, dearest?” I ask.

“It’s made from lamb’s bones,” she says mournfully. 

Lammie is a light eater, but she’s never abstained from eating the flesh of her namesake creature before. I shake my head at her folly and pat her hand. 

“There there,” I say. “Have an extra slice of bread.” 

Just then, we hear footsteps outside the kitchen door. We both look up and see a man, dressed all in black. He’s young, perhaps twenty-five and, I register with a surprising fluttering in my stomach, very handsome. 

“Begging your pardon young ladies,” the stranger says with a slight bow. “But I seem to have gotten lost on my way to the lavatory. Would you be so good as to direct me?” 

I can feel my face getting hot. Lammie is staring at him with her mouth open. A moment passes. I know that I must be the one to speak, because Lammie will not. 

“It’s down that hallway to your right sir,” I say. “All the way at the end.” 

“Ah! Thank you Miss…?”

It takes me a moment to realize that he wants me to say my name. 

“Alexandria. And this is Lammie…Lamia.” 

“Miss Alexandria and Miss Lamia. It is very good to make your acquaintance. My name is John Fitzmaurice. But I hope you will call me Jack.  I am a very great admirer of your father. Thank you so very much for your assistance.” 

“You’re welcome, sir.” 

He bows again, and disappears. I hear his footsteps going down the hall. Lammie and I look at one another. We can hear the door opening and closing, and more strange voices. The party is beginning. 

We wrap some extra bread in a napkin and put the dishes by the basin for Molly to wash in the morning. Then we make a pot of Lammie’s mint tea and take our cups up to our bedroom, being careful not to spill. 

It’s still early, but I tell Lammie that we should change into our nightgowns and get into bed. The rain has started pattering on the roof, and even though it won’t properly be sunset for a little while yet, the dark clouds have blotted out the sun. “I’ll read from our new book,” I say. 

Our book is called “Five Children and It.” The cover is red with gold letters, and there is a picture embossed on the cover of the children in the story, and the creature. I am just getting to the part where they find the creature, which is called a Psammead: 

“The children stood round the hole in a ring, looking at the creature they had found. It was worth looking at. Its eyes were on long horns like a snail’s eyes, and it could move them in and out like telescopes; it had ears like a bat’s ears, and its tubby body was shaped like a spider’s and covered with thick soft fur; its legs and arms were furry too, and it had hands and feet like a monkey’s.

‘What on earth is it?’ Jane said. ‘Shall we take it home?’

The thing turned its long eyes to look at her, and said: ‘Does she always talk nonsense, or is it only the rubbish on her head that makes her silly?’” 

I look at Lammie, and her eyes are round. 

“What is it, darling?” I ask her. 

“Is it real?” She asks. 

It is at times like this that I wonder if Lammie is a bit soft in the head, like Mother. “No, Lamb. Of course not. And anyway it’s such a silly story! I’m sure that the creature will turn out to be very nice, in the end.” 

She looks unconvinced. I read some more. To cheer her up, I try to do all of the voices, which is quite difficult, since I must have a unique voice for each of the children, and the Psammead too, of course. By the end of the chapter, she has a sleepy smile on her face at last, so I give her a kiss and tuck her in. When we are at Father’s house we sleep in the same bed, so I crawl under the covers next to her and we fall asleep like two birds in a nest.  

At some point in the night, I am awakened by a flash of lightning outside the window. The thunder comes only a moment later; it is quite close to the house. My pulse quickens a little with anxiety. There are several large trees outside in Father’s garden. If one of them were hit…but no; the second flash comes, and the thunder a few seconds after. It is moving away from us. When the thunder stops, I hear another sound. It’s a low, rhythmic chanting. I shudder. Father and his friends. They are downstairs in the drawing room, having their ritual for the equinox. 

Soon, exhaustion wins over my apprehension, and I fall asleep once more. 

I awake a second time with a start.  There is a sound, quite close by. Someone is trying the door to our room, jiggling the knob and testing the latch. I gasp, and Lammie stirs in her sleep, mumbling something. Of course, I have locked and latched the door, but fear shoots through me nonetheless. Lammie opens her eyes and looks around in wild confusion. I hug her to me. A moment later, whomever has been at the door gives up and I hear footsteps retreating down the hall. Lammie and I lie there in the dark, listening to one another’s shallow breathing. Gradually, we both become calm again, but it is some time before we fall asleep. 

*

In the morning, I awake feeling groggy and cross. I roll over on my side to see whether Lammie is awake yet, but she is already up and out of bed. I sigh and throw off the covers.  There is no hope of sleeping in much later, with the watery, mid-morning light streaming in past the curtains. 

I dress and wash up quickly, then head downstairs to look for Lammie and some breakfast. 

Upstairs it is very quiet. I don’t doubt that my father’s guests are still slumbering very late in their guest rooms. Downstairs, things are a bit more lively.  Molly is in the kitchen. She’s already done the washing up from last night, and now has moved on to making breakfast for the household. She is bustling about looking flushed and harried. 

“Tea and coffee,” she is muttering under her breath, “tea and coffee.”

“Molly, can I help you with breakfast?” I ask, sensing her distress. 

“Oh Miss Alexandria! Good morning my dear. Yes, please I would love a hand with the biscuits.” 

I help Molly as best I can, until father enters the room.  Then, I dutifully wipe my flour-covered hands on my apron and go to give him a kiss.  His cheek is scratchy with stubble, and his skin is very warm. Father always says that he “burns hot.” His eyes and hair are very dark; almost black, and he is stout. He is dressed in a dark suit. 

“Hello my dear,” he says gruffly. “Molly, my guests will take their breakfast in the parlor.” 

“It’s almost ready sir.” My father makes Molly nervous. She’s wiping her palms anxiously on her apron. 

“Never mind that. Just bring us the tea and coffee. We’ll take the rest as it comes.” He looks at me again, as if suddenly remembering that I exist. “Alexandria! Follow me into the parlor, my girl. I’d like to introduce you.” 

I do as I’m told, with Molly following behind us with the tea tray. 

The company arranged in the drawing room would be considered unusual in most social circles, but is altogether usual in my father’s house. 

“May I introduce my daughter, Alexandria,” my father says. “My dear, this is Mr. and Mrs. Fitch, Miss Melora MacElroy, and Mr. John Fitzmaurice.” The man from last night grins at me and holds out his hand. 

“Jack,” he says with a wink. I shake his hand tentatively. Does this mean that I am not to mention that we already met?

The woman sitting to his right, the one that my father introduced as Miss MacElroy fixes her green eyes on me and smiles lazily. 

“What a charming girl,” she purrs. She has dark red hair, which is undone and falling into her face. She wears black velvet venetian-style slippers and a black, ankle length silk kimono embroidered with pink flowers.  She crosses one leg over the other, revealing a shocking length of snowy white calf. 

Startled, I try not to stare, but the other guests seem to take no notice of Miss MacElroy’s indecency. 

“How old are you my dear?” asks Mrs. Fitch. The Fitches are older, perhaps fifty, and greying. They both have spectacles, and look like teachers or librarians, except that they are both wearing a great many beaded necklaces and amulets that I recognized as symbols of the occult. 

“I’m thirteen years old, Ma’am,” I say with a small courtesy. 

“Ooh, lucky thirteen,” says Miss MacElroy, as she sips her coffee. 

“Alexandria,” my father says, “where on earth is your sister?” 

“I don’t know, Papa, I haven’t seen her all morning.” 

“Well, go and find her, will you? I’d like to introduce my progeny to my friends.” 

“Yes, Papa.” 

I curtsey vaguely at the assembly, then turn on my heel and dash out the door. With all the activity in the kitchen this morning, I’d forgotten about Lammie, but she is usually easy to find. 

It is a fine day outside, and Lammie loves to be out of doors. She is forever collecting things, like fallen pinfeathers, mouse bones, unusual rocks, and so forth. She is exceptionally good at finding four-leaf clovers.  

I run down the garden path, back to the place where Lammie and I gathered pussy-willows yesterday afternoon. After last night’s storm, the air is fresh and clean and still, and the sun is shining. 

Sure enough, she’s there. She is standing very still, and staring straight ahead into the willow branches. 

“Lammie!” I call. My sister does not turn around. 

By the time I reach her, I am out of breath and patience. 

I grab her by the shoulder. “Lammie, you cow! Didn’t you hear me calling you? Father is looking for you.” 

Lammie turns her head towards me, very slowly. There’s something wrong with her eyes. They are very dark, almost black. I gasp. Then, Lammie blinks and her eyes go back to normal. 

“Lammie?”
“Did you see it, Anda?” 

“Did I see what, Dear?” My anger at Lammie has vanished, and I’m concerned for her again. 

“The Psam…the Psamea..what do you call it?” 

“The Psammead? You mean the fairy in the book we read last night?” 

“Yes. That’s it. I saw him, Anda. Except that he was…different. Larger. More frightening.” 

I feel sick in the pit of my stomach.  “Lammie,” I say carefully, “you are saying things that don’t make any sense. You sound…you sound a bit like Mother, right before she was sent away, do you remember?” 

She looks me in the eye, and her eyes suddenly go from soft and unfocused to blazing with certainty. Her fists are balled up at her sides in a ferocious pose. 

“No Anda,” she says, “Do not say that. I am not mad. I saw him as clearly as I see you now. He said he had to go away for a little while, but he said…he said he would be back this evening.”

I shake my head. “Perhaps you have a fever…”

“No, I am quite well.  I will show him to you! Oh, and Anda, he said such things. He told me of his homeland, which is not at all like Massachusetts. In fact, it never snows, and it is very dry and hot. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” 

I sigh. “I don’t know Lammie. Could you please just come inside with me? You know how father is when he’s cross.” 

Lammie nods. ‘Yes. Yes, let’s go in.”

Continued in Part 2