NYAC | 3min Read
Published on May 7, 2026
The Hellebore Garden
The Hellebore Garden
The Winter Curse had started five miserable years ago. Vicious winds, unforgiving
snow and scarce supplies. It had swept in uninvited.
It refused to leave.
And with it had come the Frojan soldiers.
Also uninvited. Also refusing to leave.
Or allowing others to.
‘Good lord, stop staring outside, April,’ aunt Lana chided from behind the kitchen
counter. ‘You can’t change anything.’
‘Is it true some kids like snow?’ April asked quietly.
Aunt Lana sighed, resigned, ‘Why must you ask the strangest questions, child?’
April stood, ‘I’m going to the garden.’
‘Don’t forget your hood, dear’
April made her way to a patch of land that belonged to nobody, but nothing had ever
belonged to them.
She stared down at the hellebore flowers. Sometimes, if she did long enough, she
would see a woman tending to them, fingers gentle, humming sweetly.
But that had been long ago. Nowadays, no matter how hard she tried–even if she sat
there till evening–she could see nothing but flowers and snow. She couldn’t
remember the woman’s face–nothing but snow–but April knew she’d loved the
flowers. So she took the responsibility upon herself now.
***
April set down the watering can next to the tank, she rapped her knuckle against it.
‘Aunt Lana, water’s run out!’ she called, ‘June, get up! I know you’re awake.’
April’s twin sister sat up in bed, not daring to untangle herself from her warm
blankets.
‘Can’t I oversleep once in a while?’ June whined, smiling.‘Don’t make it obvious you’re awake if you want to sleep in,’ April muttered, aware
June would never slack off.
April melted frost off the firewood with barely flickering flames then fed them to the
fire. June set down a pail next to her, carrying one herself.
‘We’ll get the water! Let’s go, April.’
***
April trudged after her sister, the bucketful of snow heavy in her hand. It had to be
melted–just like everything else. She trailed behind, catching a view of the maroon
flowers. They really were strange amongst the bright snow. A patch of absurdity. Of
sanity.
‘Do you remember her?’ June asked, her voice soft.
April froze. June had never spoken of the woman who had birthed them before. She
was essentially a stranger to April. Someone who had moved on long before she could
get to know her. The flowers were all that remained.
‘Do you?’ April whispered.
‘No’, June replied ruefully, ‘Only as… a face that won’t leave my dreams.’
‘Neither do I, except as… a presence that won’t leave my life.’
June smiled at her sadly, April knew her face was an exact mirror.
‘You!’ A gruff voice barked out. A Frojan soldier seeking to abuse his authority.
June turned around, admirably composed, though his kind were the reason they
were stuck here and for that lady’s death, ‘Sir?’
Before he could reply, his eyes narrowed on the garden. ‘What is that?’
He marched to her flowers, intent clear as snow. April gasped, panicked, June’s grip
on her wrist restraining her.
She watched a soldier kill her mother for the second time. April felt tears freezing on
her face, all those years of hard work.
‘Unauthorised plants,’ he informed disapprovingly then straightened his cap,
retreating. But April couldn’t look away from the remnants of her mother.She rushed to the garden.
The snow was muddy now, not white. The flowers lay crushed, dark petals scattered
over the wreckage.
‘I never wanted this. The perfect snow was better,’ she whispered between heavy
breaths, fingers gathering the petals. ‘Didn’t you always say that hellebores will
survive everything? Where are they now? Where are you?’
‘April, look.’
April looked to where her sister indicated. A single hellebore. Petals dark as ever,
stem bent–but alive. April stared for a second, then burst out laughing. Not with joy
or merriment, only realization.
June joined in, ‘They do survive everything.’
