The Tragic Tale of Teddy Woven

The gardening shed had all the necessary supplies. Teddy took a step back, allowing me to venture into the darkened space to examine the gardening equipment. It was an unusually large shed, with a few odd trinkets strung along the sides of the wooden wall. It was clean, a strange imitation of his ancestral home that was just outside of his shed. “You should have everything you need in here,” Teddy informed me in a clear tone of voice. “And I will leave the key on this hook.” He waited for me to turn around, allowing my eyes to follow the slow movements of his arm before he latched the key ring on a silver hook. “And you know where I will be if you are in need of me.”

“Yes,” I answered him quite breathlessly, for his visage was eclipsed in darkness from the natural lighting of the shed. He stood there motionlessly for a moment, and then swiftly turned around to make his way back towards the house again. An involuntary shudder seized me. My jaw clenched with the realization that there was something alluring about me that Teddy could not ignore.

Bent on the need for a distraction, I pulled out the wrinkled note I wrote last night. Daphne described the areas she would like me to focus on for this week, and I was ardent on following them to the letter. A long green hose was unlatched from its holder, and slowly but surely, I pulled it out to bring the nozzle to the edge of the house. I had to water the flowers first, so I thought to start at the front of the house. The water gushed from the hose, spraying over the greenery of plants that had been shielded from the drizzle of rain earlier this morning. I looked to the rugged brown door, and then the thick green vines that curled around the edges of the right side of the house. Bird songs filled the air, high enough for me to take in the clear blue sky. There were seldom any clouds now, and if I listened carefully enough, I could hear the hush roaring of the sea. The sound of fingers pressing quickly over the piano keys filled the air around the house as Teddy played his instrument. He was a talented pianist, the accuracy of his execution as he played a piece by Beethoven only proved that. The window in the living room was barely cracked open, allowing music to seep into the air and come wafting its way towards me. I listened attentively, marvelled by the sheer sound that this man was able to produce.

I moved to the right more, finding the flowers had been well watered. My attention was soon focused on a small section of yellow daffodils, watching them sway to the left and right as water poured down to their very roots. The music continued to play at a quick pace, crazed and hurried as if this man was holding his very breath. The depths of his passion were portrayed in his music, a world of emotion that he tried to hold back. I moved to the corner of the house, only to find there were no flowers that needed to be watered there. There was a strange sense of regret since I had to move further away from the brick building, knowing the closest set of flower pots were at the very back of the house. The music gradually became distant, and once I was standing over a circular rocky pathway with a green hose dangling in my hand, the homeowner’s music was but a distant memory for me.

***

An hour and a half later I was trimming unruly hedges when I heard soft padding of shoes against the grass. My hedge scissors were lowered to my waist after I turned around to face him. He was dressed in the same apparel, though he looked more relaxed as the natural shelter of the brick wall blocked out the harsh noon day lightening. “It is almost time for you to go,” he noted. “I suppose I can’t convince you to stay.”

“I have to return to my regular job.” My arm was brought upwards to wipe sweat from my brow. I could feel my dark brown hair clinging to the side of my face, since the heat from the sun caused me to sweat profusely. “I will have to leave right at noon.”

for a moment. “I think you should come inside for a break,” he suggested. His right leg stretched forward, causing most of his weight to lean over to the

this to finish,” I

for water

“Oh, alright.”

watched me lay it down on the grass, for I was intent on completing the task before I would have to leave

a place by his side. The movements of his feet were impeccably smooth

I called out to gather his attention. “Who taught you

“My guardian.”

“Guardian?”

to ensure I made no further inquiries. I turned my gaze fearfully from him, allowing my eyes to take in the wall of his house

confided.