At the beginning of spring next year, the young man left the garden and everything fell into silence.
It may have been a long time, until the roses in the garden began to bloom, leaving only sharp thorns and withered thorns on the ground.
Thick fog surrounds the garden, and the prosperity of the outside world is shattered, becoming a wilderness where no one has set foot.
Geckos, butterflies and oak trees, blue silk and puppies, the professor's daughter and the minister's nephew, a splendid dance, the floor-length skirt and the silver buckles on the shoes - the stories are all lost in time and dust, along with the sincere emotions that humans think they are, nowhere to be found in the ruins of the palace.
Only stars, in their long lives, occasionally recall the thoughts expressed to them by a brown nightingale. The eyes span hundreds of millions of light years from eternity, but they are still bright and gentle.
Then on a certain month and year, the garden received a packet of white rose tree seeds, and someone lit the lights in the cabin.
Later, a rose was placed on the bench in the front yard. The petals were as red as blood, but the heart was as white as snow - a note from the wilderness beyond the thick fog, where the roses withered and bloomed again by the roadside.
Or maybe after half a moment of twilight, the nightingale happened to fall asleep when the dawn broke into the garden, and had a dream that was not too long.
"Please don't wake me up again."
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Rose×Nightingale
(But not strictly two bits)
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An article written because I lost a bet with a friend orz
The background comes from Oscar Wilde's fairy tale "The Nightingale and the Rose". You can read the original text first.
This is my first time writing, please give me some advice.
Intention: Self-righteous fantasy
