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The Garden and the Seed
The Garden and the Seed

The Garden and the Seed

MBaileyMatt Bailey
5 Reviews

The poor, wretched little seed was a victim of both public opinion and circumstance. Public opinion was almost always hostile towards its kind. There were the odd occasions in the past when popular opinion was more favourable towards their inclusion, sometimes because it became fashionable, or sometimes when the prevailing sentiment veered dangerously towards compassion. They were, after all, plants just like all the others, so they would be forgiven in thinking that they would be treated the same as all other plants.

But this poor little seed never had a chance. The winds of circumstance carried it into an area that was full of hostile plants. These plants were thriving; they had rich, fertile soil and a perfect climate of soft rains and gentle sun. But they were extremely protective of their piece of land. They were so protective of it that they had erected a boundary around it, claiming it as their own. It was a particularly unwelcoming boundary; a tall hedge of spiky and aggressive shrubs.

Carried in innocently by the wind you might think that the little seed would be a natural candidate for long term residency. But here the rules were different. In being carried in on natures highway it had arrived in a style different to that of the other plants. Most of the other plants had been chosen and brought in according to the desire of the gardener. They were carefully selected according to their merit and their beauty. Entry was carefully controlled.

Many were foreign plants themselves. Brought over from the far reaches of the earth they were planted together to create a harmonious, tranquil and well proportioned garden. Some of the plants had been there so long that they had forgotten their country of origin. They were thought of and believed themselves to be natives. Even they clamoured against the inclusion of these ugly foreign plants carried in on the wind. They had a name for them too; weeds. Dirty horrible little weeds. Chickweed. Bindweed. Pigweed. Scummy weed. Go away you ugly little weed.

Other seeds of its kind had settled in more favourable surroundings. They found the dark corners and hidden crevices of the garden. They were able to germinate and grow without much attention, escaping the roving eyes of the hostile plants and the wrath of the gardeners hoe. Theirs was not a happy existence, they lived in fear of being caught and under the threat of deportation. But they were surviving.

The poor little seed, however, had no such luck. It settled next to a beautiful spreading shrub that produced a bright display of delicate pink flowers in the spring and a rich, multi-coloured display of leaves in the autumn. The seed strove to survive and live. It was no pampered plant that was pruned and watered and fed. It was lean and robust. It was resilient. It put out its roots quickly and sucked up what water and nutrients it could. It's first leaves soon appeared and it began to race towards the sun. It wanted to be a part of the beautiful garden. But it had no chance. The elegant, preening shrub noticed the small plant and howled loudly for it to be removed. There was no space for it here! It was taking away nutrients that the shrub needed. It was destroying the beauty and the balance of the garden! It would take over! It was ugly. It brought nothing to the garden. It needed to go! NOW.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the distance; the gardener was on his way with the dreaded hoe. The seed had heard about this deadly hoe, others had whispered about it and talked of its sharp steel blade that cut through your roots and left you floundering in the bare soil. And then the cruel hand would reach down and dump you on the barrow to take you away to who knows where. A dark, terrible place where they kept the unwanted and unwelcome plants.

The poor little seed stood defiantly before the gardener. It was not going to beg. Life and circumstance had not been kind to it, but it was not going to feel sorry for itself, and fighting back against such a powerful, superior force was pointless. It was resigned to its fate, but it would face it head on. No plant would see it wilting under the looming threat of the dreaded hoe. Let the cruel gardener take it away to the feared place where plants never saw the light again. Where they slowly rotted away with no hope and no chance of help. Where they were forgotten by all the other plants.

Author Notes: An allegory of migration, done as part of an exercise on a creative writing course. Feedback and constructive criticism, as ever, is welcome.

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About The Author
Matt Bailey
About This Story
31 Jan, 2020
Read Time
3 mins
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5.0 (5 reviews)

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