Norris Nuvo is an Audio/Video Editor, Graphic Illustrator, Performance Artist, Musician, Poet and Writer based in Wales, UK...

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Norris Nuvo
artist, poet & writer
Posts: 16
Joined: Mon Nov 26, 2012 7:18 pm
Location: Caerdydd, Cardiff, United Kingdom


Postby Norris Nuvo » Tue Nov 27, 2012 12:24 pm

The garden is a short esoteric story that I wrote in my 20s [that's 40 years ago now] in which I tried to condense most of the ideas
that are contained within religions into a few simple ideas....

The child awoke in a garden, she stretched and stood up, yawning. Immediately her attention was grabbed and her curiosity aroused by all the goings on around her. The colours, the sounds, the smells, the excitement of the bustling world crashing like waves upon the shores of her senses.

There were children playing for as far as she could see. Some were playing tunes on musical instruments, some danced, some played in the dark brown soil. All around her were the sounds of laughter and happiness. She joined in their games.

A small number of children were grouped around a tree, the only of its kind in the garden. Under it’s branches stood a tall, fair, boy. He was telling a story and handing around Fruit from the tree to the circle gathered. They, in turn, took pieces of the Fruit to every child in the garden, but for one. He, a small, dark, ugly child refused to eat of the Fruit, and he ran away to be alone in a quiet corner of the garden. All the other children ate of this Fruit and desired more of it, and squabbles broke out over it.

Time passed.....

The Tree was now guarded by the friends of the Storyteller and he had taken up residence in its boughs. His stories were now listened to daily as his disciples distributed small portions of the fruit to the gathering. The children would kneel before him as they accepted their small share. Soon all the children were kneeling daily before him, but for one. The ugly child said to them, " Why only eat of one tree ? There are many fruits to try, each one with it’s own flavour". The other children mocked him in his ignorance of the Fruit of the One Tree, and drove him back to his corner of the garden.

Time passed.....

The Storyteller’s tales now took on a different genre. He told them of new things ! Things outside of their knowledge, outside of the garden. He told them of a Gardener, the creator of all they could see, a powerful being indeed ! He let them into his secret. The gardener had appointed someone to run things in his absence. Who could it be ? Why none other than the Storyteller himself. The children were given extra fruit that day. They felt safe.

Time passed.....

The children gathered to receive their daily Fruit and Story. Today they had been promised something new, something the Storyteller called Laws. He said they had been told to him by the Gardener.

"Shhhh ! here he comes now...." The Storyteller stood before them, his young face serious and giving. The Laws of the Gardener are as follows:

The word of the Gardener is the law of the garden...
The Storyteller is the mouth of the Gardener...
The fruit shall only be consumed by the faithful...
The Storyteller shall be the judge of faith...

The children puzzled over this for a moment, then the Friends of the Storyteller distributed a triple helping of the fruit among them. They guzzled, swallowing the rich juices as easily as they had swallowed the Laws. They slavered and slurped at every shred of fruit given to them, saliva showering around them like heavy raindrops in a prelude to a storm.

Time passed.....

Changes had been made in the garden. An enclosure had been built around the One Tree. Behind its thick wooden walls lived the Storyteller, his twelve Friends, and thirty nine girls, to act as servants and concubines for them. This Holy fifty-two ate of the Fruit daily. In the garden other changes had taken place. Many now were hungry. Most of the ordinary fruit trees had been cut down to build the enclosure. They had laboured hard to build it, and some had been injured in the process. Discontent was rippling among the children.

The dark ugly child moved among them, people listened to him these days. " Plant seed, grow new trees" he said often to them. Many listened and most agreed with his wisdom, but what could they do. The Storyteller was the Gardener’s chosen one, the Keeper of the Seed of all trees and of the Fruit of the One Tree. They were powerless. The dark ugly child knew what had to be done, and stole away into the darkening night

As the sun broke through the haze of morning dew, it was accompanied by screams of rage from behind the enclosure. The children gathered hurriedly before it’s gates. What was happening ! No one had been guarding the One Tree. It had been destroyed during the night. Someone had burned it to the ground. The friends had become lax since the enclosure had been built, and they resented guard duty amid their acquired luxury. It made far more sense to stay in the moist warm clutches of their lovely concubines at night.
The children stared blankly before them, none daring to meet the eye of the deranged Storyteller. He slapped them, he kicked them, and eventually picked on a small girl and threatened to execute her. The crowd were not listening now. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, they found their voices, and started using them. Not to denounce the Storyteller, or indeed to try and save the little girl. Oh no .

They started to turn on each other ,shouting and gesturing against their neighbours.

"Who has destroyed the One Tree".
"Who has destroyed the One Tree".
"Who has destroyed the One Tree"

The only thing that had made their miserable existence bearable In the desolate place they had made of paradise.

Shouts went up among the gathering. " Find the defiler". "Persecute the sinner". A voice cut through the rest, a timid voice, stammering. " I set it alight. It was me.." There was silence......

" You see, y-y-you d d-denied y-y-yourself choices. You only ate one fruit, yet there are many, you denied yourself choice to gain security You gave away your freedom for this slavery. You are all individuals, you don’t need the Storyteller or his rotten fruit. Plant seed, grow new different trees, play games again, love one another."

For a moment everything was still........... Then all seemed to move at once. They closed around him, grabbing at any part of him. Tearing him limb from limb, ripping the dark ugly child to shreds. The air was filled with their banshee screams, as Truth was disembowelled.

The frenzy spread.

The Storyteller was nowhere to be seen He had hidden himself inside the minds of the foolish children. They turned upon each other, the lust for blood upon them. They now used their musical instruments to kill and maim each other. Their toys now weapons of war. Amid this orgy of destruction, the Gardener returned.

" Enough !" he cried, weeping at the carnage, the loss of beauty, the corruption of innocence.

" My children what have you done".....

Time stopped...

" You shall stay in this garden for a span of eternity, until each one of you learns to see it for what it really is. For if you do not see even this small place, then how shall you ever see the other gardens and the greater delights I have prepared for you."

"You shall spend each day in this place, and by night you may visit my other gardens. But, at each new dawn you shall awake with no memory of all that is gone before."
"I shall, from time to time send messengers and observers to this garden. I shall leave clues to help you remember, but it will not be easy."
"One by one you will each remember, and you will know this place. When all have remembered, I shall return for you.

Now Sleep.........

The child awoke in a garden,
he stretched and stood up, yawning.
Immediately his attention was grabbed
and his curiosity aroused by all the goings on around him.
The colours, the sounds, the smells, the excitement of the
bustling world crashing like waves
upon the shores of his senses…………………………………

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