"The Ghost in the Garden" by Olivia Graves

I’m not in my right mind. 

I can see, hear, and feel the air around me…but my thoughts have led me astray. 

I’m more unwell than I’d thought. 

I bask in the sun's warm, gentle glow. Thorny vines envelop me, holding my frail body to an earth so full of life. I try to breathe, but my lungs are dry—no longer drawing breath. 

My melancholic corpse lay among the earth. My teary eyes gaze upon joyous butterflies flying overhead. Their beautiful, colorful wings fill my salty vision. I study them while unable to move. I’ve become one with the earth, tethered to it. Roots of agony and shame engulf me.

I don’t remember coming here. To this garden. 

My entire being becomes one with the seeds, the sprouts, and the budding blossoms. That was then. Now, the seeds have sprouted. The sprouts have budded. The blossoms have flourished. 

They dance in the wind, whispering fairytales as I’m forced to lay among them—a dead flower living among beautiful, colorful life. The flowers—my lone companions. 

I’m forgotten by mother nature. My moth-eaten flesh turns to ash as the vines around me tangle in my ribcage, budding small, yellow blossoms that’ll soon sprout within me. 

Flowers replace my heart. Dancing wind replaces my lungs. Butterflies replace my mind. The mind that tricked me into thinking I’m not a corpse within a garden, but I am. 

Neglected by everything and nothing all at once. 

Olivia Graves is a high school freshman who enjoys reading, writing, drawing, and playing guitar.