First Line Fiction Prompt #19
Tell Me Something I Don’t Know
Secrets from a midnight garden
In the middle of the night, the garden came alive with secrets only she could hear. So even though her eyelids were heavy, and the day was long, Ramayah made a point to slip into the garden on those rare occasions when she was up late, or, more frequently, when her bladder awoke her with its urgent unavoidable call.
On chilly nights, she burrowed into the down of her ski jacket so she’d have the patience to listen for more than a few seconds. The longer she listened, the more she heard.
At first, the sounds were garbled. Lots of high-pitched whining that sounded like sped-up Munchkins. Seemed to be coming from the flowers, even when their blossoms had long since withered and gone to seed. When Ramaya crouched low to the ground and took slow, deep, even breaths, a word or two would pop from the musical, but incoherent mish-mash.
Words like stolen. Words like lost. Words like blood. Words like runaway.
The longer she waited and the slower she breathed, the more she could just barely make out. Piecing the words together like clues in the cozy mysteries she read before bed left her with nothing but one big duh! Being Black in the state of Louisiana in the 21st century…
