The boy crumbles the perfect petals between his fingers and watches them flake down towards his feet. Everything around him is so serene, so unspoiled; as though all the resentment and hatred in the world had never existed.
Not a sound rises to disrupt the peace: the nirvana he has created. The boy picks up another flower and begins to rip and tear from its core structure, allowing the remains to float effortlessly through his fingers once more.
He calls this art.
The grass on which the boy lays feels warm and familiar: he has been here before.
The silence has lured him into a trap. It is here in his own personal Garden of Eden that he often ventures to escape.
As he turns his head away from the sun, the boy notices a small blue jay threading through the leaves of the tree he is sitting under. Its innocence unnerves him.
He reaches into his left pocket and pulls out a broken piece of mirror he had once obtained from a long forgotten family dispute. There has not been a time since the age of 11 that he has not carried this with him. The boy is now 17 – his smile has turned south for good and wrinkles of fear have been carved into his face by unwelcome thoughts.
He is focusing intently on the shard in his hand, hoping for a clue. All that answers back through the reflection is a pair of large, modest emerald eyes.
“You gonna save anyone today then, pal?”
The voice emits from the reflection like a ripple across a tranquil lake, immediately violating the solitude. The boy does not respond.
The blue jay has poised itself on a limp branch directly above him. Its sweet melody echoes through his mind like a persistent bell. How dangerous, he thinks, sitting there beautifully without a worry.
Despite his struggle, the boy’s attention is once again pulled back to the shard in his hand. He waits, composed and ready for whatever the ugly reflection wants to say next.
“You can’t hide from me. Not even here in the Garden of Eden.”
The boy shifts uneasily. Tiny beads of sweat begin racing each other down his palms: his eyelids force shut as he wrestles with the thoughts bombarding his mind.
The bird’s song is now heavier on his ears.
“You are so ugly on the inside.” is what the reflection says next.
The boy shakes his head in disagreement – although he knows what is true. He knows how ugly he is. He knows he can never be as beautiful as the blue jay or its impeccable melody. That is what he has been taught and that is what he believes.
It is not possible to look away from the mirror. Something warns him that it is a part of him and he craves the answers the reflection bears. Why won’t it deliver?
The sun is quiet and the grass is now cold. The song of the blue jay is piercing the boy’s thoughts just as a cruel word pierces a pleasant moment, ripping through the peace with its voice.
The boy is becoming desperate; he is cradling his precious piece of mirror between his knees and his hands suffocate his ears in a futile attempt to block out all noise. His sanctuary has been stained with unwanted commotion, though he is equally unprepared to give it up as he is to fight for it.
The frost is becoming overwhelming on his skin. There is no room for free movement anymore because everything is closing in: the vicious voice, the intrusive innocence of the blue jay.
His stomach feels as though it has been ignited and something solid is crawling up his throat. The pressure perverts every aspect of him as he grows smaller and smaller inside of himself, looking up only momentarily to see that the blue jay has become trapped between branches.
No matter how hard he tries he cannot seem to ignore his surroundings. His garden is turning sour and he feels weaker as it does. All is darkened when he dares to open his eyes, although he can’t work out why. The air is turning tempestuous as the light falls victim to an insidious oppression. Darkness pervades every inch of the boy’s haven, slowly dragging itself by the claws to where he cowers. He can feel it edging its way up his arms and into his hair, the noise banging on and on and on…
In a split moment, the boy forces his hand up through the murk towards the blue jay directly above him. Eyes still closed but masked behind tears, he pulls the bird back down close to his chest. He clasps his right hand around the sharp piece of mirror and brings it around to meet his torso. The boy’s eyes momentarily rest on the stomach of the blue jay, until one swift movement and –
Done.
Everything is calm again and the darkness is gone. The reflection has halted its words. No more invasion of his safe place to be detected.
The boy is staring down at his deed. His palms open to reveal his work. The body is cold against his fingertips, yet he is feeling a glowing warmth from within. He has rescued this naïve little product of nature from the harsh realities of living and restored the peace he so desperately craves – two birds with one stone.
The moment tastes bittersweet.
The boy peers down at his reflection once more almost invitingly. He knows he is untouchable. He is the higher power and he fully understands this now. No one can disturb him anymore. He gazes at the abrupt expression written across the bird’s blackened eyes, knowing that the beauty is dead and he is the one who has killed it. Looking carefully at the exposed gut of the creature, he swallows the lump sitting in his throat.
Nothing but blood escaping the bird, he now realizes that the blue jay is ugly on the inside too.
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