this pic is based off of a poem I read in school a few years ago. it is a pretty short poem but I recommend reading it before starting the fic. if u don't its fine haha. heres a link to the poem: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/incident-in-a-rose-garden-by-donald-justice/
The dapper young man strolled through his rose garden, enjoying the scents and the beauty. He wore one of his favourite outfits: thigh high (high!) heeled boots; a gold shirt, short sleeved with puffed sleeves; and a black vest with buttons delicately shaped like roses.
The roses in the garden were, of course, his prized possessions. They had made him famous throughout the country. People came from far and wide to marvel at his rose garden, overlooked by his large mansion.
The garden was nice and quiet, so the young man enjoyed the garden. Today was special. Today, the man had closed his garden to the public. Today, his lover was coming back from boarding school. And today, the man was going to propose to her. The man had a picnic ready at the special table in the center of the rose garden. The table that his great grandfather had made for his great grandmother. The table that had the first rose planted next to it.
A commotion was made in another part of the rose garden and the man bristled, annoyed at the disruption of his peace. Of course, the commotion was made by his old gardener. The young man did not like the crazy old gardener, but kept him because he was the only one who could properly tend his rose garden.
The old man ran up to the young garden owner. He panted loudly and blurted, “I just saw death. He was standing there in a black robe, crows circling him. Then death started growing until he was seven feet tall!” the old man looked just about ready to pass out. He frantically continued, “I just need to see my sons one more time.”
The young man didn’t want to deal with such nonsense. He dismissed the gardener’s rant to be delusions. He said to the old gardener, “Then go! Take care of all the things you need to do!” The men shook hands, the young man’s lip curling in disgust as dirt transferred from the old man’s glove onto his. The old man ran off and the estate owner continued his stroll as if nothing had happened.
The young man stopped short as crows flew towards him flapping their wings in his face. The man jumped as a tall man in a fashionable cloak stepped out in front of him. The young man blurted out, “The gardens are closed today, I would appreciate it if you would take your leave.” At that moment, the young man heard the sound of a carriage. Perhaps the carriage of his lover. He turned to go, but death put a light hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“I remember when your great grandfather built this table and the moment this very rose garden started,” said Death in a low rumbling voice that reminded the young man of an orchestra.
“Eh!” the young man shouted as death leaned forward revealing a small cage that he held in his large bony hands. The young man was confused, what was this stranger who called himself death doing?
Death slowly reached out putting his hand to the young man’s chest. Suddenly, death was grasping the man’s heart and soul and twisted making a sickening squelching sound. Death pulled, stealing the heart and soul from the young man. He calmly put them in his little cage. The man looked down seeing blood cascading down his chest like a terrible waterfall. He fell to his knees, blood foaming and dribbling from his mouth. The young man flopped to his side landing on the soft grass. A dandelion (what was that weed doing there?) tickled his arm and as his eyes closed, black seeping over his vision, he saw Death standing over him grinning.
* * *
The girl entered the rose garden looking for her lover, already knowing where she would find him. Sitting at the special tree in the center of the garden. She skipped along excited, but tired from her long trip.
She stopped short staring at the horror in front of her. She went over to her lover’s body beginning to cry quietly. A large murder of crows rose into the air, their wings flapping in unison and caws floating over the grieving girl and the young man. The girl could do nothing as death stole her lover’s last breath, adding the young man’s voice to his orchestra.
The orchestra is the idea that Death takes people’s voices and adds them to his to create an orchestra like voice. His voice is all of the people he’s killed combined. Just wanted to clear that up in case that wasn’t clear...
and sorry its so short haha I couldnt think of anything else to add...