Well, let me tell ya somethin’ about this here garden, the one they say is “filled with burls.” Don’t rightly know what a “burl” is, sounds fancy, but I know what I see.
This garden, it ain’t no pretty little flower patch, no sir. It’s a wild, tangled mess, like my hair after a week of workin’ the fields. Things growin’ every which way, twisted and gnarled. Reminds me of old man Johnson’s knuckles, all bumpy and crooked. He used to say it was from years of hard work, but I always figured it was just the way he was made.
Now, they say these “burls,” whatever they are, are filled with nightmares. Nightmares, huh? I’ve had my share of those. Mostly ’bout the crops failin’ or the chickens gettin’ eaten by somethin’ in the night. But these nightmares in the garden, they sound different, darker. Like somethin’ evil’s growin’ there, not just weeds and thorns.
- Makes you wonder what kind of seeds were planted, don’t it?
- Maybe it ain’t the seeds at all, maybe it’s somethin’ in the soil, somethin’ rotten.
Folks talk about a “Mother Tree” bein’ at the heart of it all. Sounds like somethin’ out of a fairy tale, the kind my grandpappy used to tell. But this ain’t no fairy tale, this is real life, and real life ain’t got no magic trees, just hard work and stubborn weeds. Still, somethin’ about that “Mother Tree” gives me the chills. Like she’s watchin’, waitin’, seein’ who dares to step foot in her twisted little kingdom.
I heard tell of folks goin’ into that garden, lookin’ for somethin’. Some say treasure, some say answers, some say they just lost their way. But most of ’em, they don’t come back. And the ones that do, they ain’t the same. They got a haunted look in their eyes, like they seen somethin’ they can’t unsee. It makes you think, is it worth it? Is whatever’s in that garden worth losin’ yourself for?
I ain’t one for fancy talk or big adventures. I like my feet planted firmly on the ground, knowin’ what’s what. But this garden, it bothers me. It’s like a splinter in your mind, a constant irritant. You try to ignore it, but it just keeps naggin’ at ya. Makes you wanna grab a shovel and dig up the whole damn thing, just to see what’s hidin’ underneath.
Maybe one day I will. Maybe I’ll get tired of wonderin’ and worryin’ and just go see for myself. But until then, I’ll keep my distance, watchin’ from afar. And I’ll warn anyone who gets too close, tell ’em to stay away. ‘Cause some things are best left undisturbed, some gardens are best left to grow wild. And some nightmares, well, some nightmares are better left in the dark.
It’s like when my old mule, Bess, got spooked by somethin’ in the woods one night. She wouldn’t go near that spot again, no matter how much I coaxed her. Animals, they got a sense for these things, a sense for what’s dangerous and what’s not. Maybe we should listen to ’em more often.
So, if you ever find yourself near a garden “filled with burls,” just remember my words. Turn around, walk away, and don’t look back. There’s nothin’ good waitin’ for you there, only trouble and heartache. And maybe, just maybe, a nightmare or two.
Anyways, that’s just my two cents. Take it or leave it, I don’t care much. Just tryin’ to keep folks safe, that’s all. This world’s got enough darkness in it already, we don’t need to go lookin’ for more.
Tags: Garden, Burls, Nightmares, Mother Tree, Mystery, Dark, Twisted, Evil, Warning, Fear.
