(content warning: violence);
Part 1- The New Thomas
this is only a draft- so be patient with me
Five years ago, Thomas bought a little step of land, near our apartment building. I often told him about my childhood on the countryside, and how I missed it, how I missed my granny, who saved my life.
She was a wonderful woman, wise and kind to people and animals. She could literally grow anything on a previously barren place, even in winter. She was somehow shun for that, I never understood why. And one winter day she vanished into thin air. My mother told me. They found the breakfast on the table, milk on the stove, fire lit and burning. Nothing was missing, except for my grandma. Nobody looked into her missing, not even my mother. Nobody ever spoke about it again.
All I could remember, was that I always wanted to be like her.
Thomas presented me a tiny patch of land, marking the edges with twigs and stones. „Ida, I want you to be happy. Let’s be happy together! Let’s grow things together.“ He smiled with his icy eyes, sincere and innocent. One look told me, the soil was no good, but he had good intentions.
I started slowly with easy plants, like cabbage, onions, sunflowers, tomatoes, beans and corn. The nearby river gave the water we needed.
It went so well, that Thomas begged me to plant more, so he could go and sell it.
Indeed we made so much money, that the second year he bought another patch of land, right beside the old one, doubling the space.
He helped me with the digging.
With the collected stones he made a little wall surrounding the garden, he was so proud of it.
I started experimenting with flowerpots, and exotic plants.
The soil was ever so giving to me, always granting me life. Every seed touching the wet dirt sprang to healthy life.
Soon people stopped and looked, what we were doing. They asked for seeds, for cuttings, for fruits. Dear Thomas always gave, more than he should have, but we were blessed, so I let him. We planted trees next. They grew so fast, in a year doubling their size. My favorites were the apple tree, the cherry tree, fig tree and a persimmon tree.
I planted a wild rose bush for protection, so people wouldn’t steal flowers and fruits. Several weeks later it grew mighty, running all around the garden, bearing dark green shiny leafs and pink scented flowers. It looked magical…
„Just enchanted,” I told Thomas, „just like Grandma’s, over the entrance of her house.“
One warm spring night, the rose bush caught a thief.
The man couldn’t free himself, legs spread and pinned, arms tightly around his torso, stolen vegetables in his hands. It seemed that long thorny tendrils wrapped around his body. How peculiar…
In the morning we saw what happened, and called for help. Some noisy neighbors came to watch, I sent Thomas to call the police.
The thief begged and whined, like a rat caught in a snare. Careless, as I become over the years, I started to entangle him, feet first. The man saw his chance, his kick caught me by surprise. It wasn’t strong, but he landed a blow to my left temple.
The ground embraced me with its soft darkness.
Far away, I heard Thomas’ scream. Suddenly, I feared the horrible Thomas was back, and that he would rain his wrath upon me. My head spun and the pain pulled me into consciousness from the inky starry pool I feared to drown in.
Thomas’ back fogged up in front of me. Someone yelled. Kneeling over a heap, why was he punching rags? He was fast, fists locked on something in front of him.
Two dark silhouettes rushed into the garden, grabbed my husband and dragged him away from the rags. This was the police, wasn’t it?
The heap of rags’ face was beaten to pulp, an oval shaped red mess. I saw it, when they took him away.
My husband’s handiwork, I knew those merciless fists. „Ida! Ida! Sweetheart! Are you hurt? …Ida!? Ida? Say something!“ Thomas bowed down to me shaking. His trembling voice and fingertips brushed over my cheeks, and temple. I caught his hand and kissed his palm. „Thank god!“ He smiled relieved. „I told them, he hurt you.“ Tears dropped from his nose. „I thought… I thought, he… You are so pale.“
On the earth, there was a little pool of caked blood and in the middle of it, a tiny white pebble; no a tooth. I dug a little hole and shoveled all the bloody earth and the tooth into that hole. I wondered. Grandma sang me a lot of weird songs.