Out of the basement and into the garden

An old man was cleaning his basement one day, when he found a strange, organic and flesh-like sack growing from the cracks formed branching down the long-neglected northern wall. He couldn't figure out exactly what it was and hastily tore it open with a garden spade. Inside were seven tiny creatures equaling the human hand in size. By appearance, these living breathing creatures looked like tiny people, colored porcelain-white with blue speckles glowing from head. Behind the blades of each shoulder flowed two fuchsia wings but blue around the edges that began falling apart the moment his hand came into contact. The wing he touched wilted in that very moment like flower petals aging through a time lapse photograph before turning the color grey. The wings fell apart instantly and spread across the floor as dust and ashes.



These creatures were dead now because of his curiosity, and there was no way possible for him to discover to any degree what they truly were. Within minutes of opening the sack all seven of them had turned a horrible mixture of black and brown before shriveling into what looked like nothing more but clumps of hard dirt.



After thinking in worried bursts of confusion over the next few hours, the old man finally came to a decision. Along the back of his house, outside in the blazing sun, he carefully placed them one by one into one of the seven freshly dug holes lined along the edge of his late wife's overgrown yet modest garden. This was the location he chose to plant them--never bury--because one does not water something that simply has been buried.