Over The Garden Wall Unknown Novels & Stories

The east wing had a door leading out to a garden, unlocked, unguarded as far as I could tell, and I took that as permission because nobody had told me otherwise. The morning air smelled like rain that hadn't fallen yet. Rows of something dark and glossy lined the path, and past them, a low stone wall separating the tended part of the garden from what looked like actual forest — real trees, not landscaping, stretching back farther than I could see. I made it about halfway along that wall before I understood I wasn't alone.

I found a side door near the kitchen and slipped into the garden. The night air was cool, smelling of jasmine and damp earth. I walked toward the perimeter wall. It was high. Twelve feet, maybe. Topped with sensors. I just wanted to see the gate. I just wanted to see the road that led back to my freedom. I walked through the rose garden, the gravel crunching softly under my bare feet. "You're going the wrong way." The voice came from the shadows of a large oak tree. I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.

"Calix? What are you doing out here without your phone?" He didn't move, his eyes remaining fixed on the dense wall of brambles and trunks fifty yards away from the garden wall. Iris follows his gaze, her breath catching in her throat as she noticed the small, irregular break in the pattern of the branches. Something is moving in the darkness between the trees, a gray silhouette shifting between the thick oak trunks with a slow, deliberate momentum. It was not an animal, the shape too upright, the movement too deliberate to be a deer or a stray dog from the neighboring fields.

Whatever was happening, it seemed to be hunting someone, and I couldn’t just let that happen. Without a second thought, I grabbed my trowel from the counter beside me, and I crept out the side door to the garden. eyes shifting left and right, looking for whoever was out there—woman or beast. As I walked around, trowel ready, it all seemed suspicious still. In fact, I’d noticed that the crickets were quiet, the owl that I usually heard hooting said not a peep. Even the wind that had been blowing a breeze through the trees earlier seemed to be stunned into silence. I kept walking through the walkways of the garden, my heart pounding in my ears with every step I took. But there was no sign of a

With each step, my heart got faster, pulled between fear and a feeling I wouldn’t say. When we got to a garden, everything felt still. It was quiet here, hidden from the world by walls of roses and lilies leaning towards the sun. The sweet air was all around me, calm but too strong. “This garden,” Adrian spoke at last, stopping by the stone water thrower in the middle, where water fell softly. “You’re only the second woman I’ve ever brought here.” His words made me freeze. My brows furrowed, curiosity pulling the question from me before I could stop it. “And the first?”

I stood beside it without touching it and looked at the gap at the edge where the fabric met the frame. Something moved through it. A shadow crossing the gap from right to left, on the other side of the glass. Something was in the garden. The feeling that had been building since Bruno stopped at the gate… the accumulation of footprints and cold breezes and vanishing traces and a dog that now stood with its tail motionless… came together in the particular way that months of patience and restraint reach their limit. I put my hand to the curtain. I pulled it aside far enough to see the garden, the path, the dark perimeter of the property boundary.

Metal clinks softly, the sound of armor or keys brushing against a belt, I couldn't really tell. They’re not paying attention to my door. That doesn’t mean they won’t, as their boredom is a fickle thing that could turn into a random inspection at any second. I inch closer to the window and peer down into the courtyard, squinting against the darkness. The moonlight barely reaches the far edges, leaving most of the space drowned in shadow and shifting shapes. For a moment, I see nothing but stone and trimmed hedges. Then I see the figure. They’re standing near the garden wall, half-hidden by the sharp angle of the building and the deep gloom cast by the parapets.

Their thorns were long, curved like hooks, and when she reached too close to push aside a vine, it snapped forward, drawing a line of red across her wrist. She recoiled, heart pounding. The garden walls loomed high around her, overgrown with these thorned monstrosities, and beyond them she heard only silence. No guards, no footsteps. Just the pulse of her own breath and the faint rustle of vines that seemed almost alive.

I shouted. I scanned the area around the garden's exit. Something was wrong. I saw no guards, and it was too… quiet. I drew a deep breath, and my nostrils filled with a strong, coppery smell. I slowed down my steps and looked beneath my feet. The sandy path was stained with dark red… My stomach twisted into knots, but I kept moving. “Hello?! Is anyone here?!” I exclaimed as I darted out of the garden, heading to the tall fence and the massive gate.

I slipped out at nine. The garden was dark and quiet, the June night having arrived softly, fairy lights along the fence throwing warm low light across the grass. I stood on the grass and I breathed. Footsteps behind me. "You're doing the wall thing," Damien said. "Without the wall." I turned. He came to stand beside me. "The wall thing?" I said. "When you need to feel something solid," he said. "You put your hand on the wall. You're standing in the middle of a garden. No wall available."