Crimson Garden Foulard

Crimson Garden | Eva Pol Art


“Come to me assassin…” Ardashir sprung forth like a startled viper warning the passer by…

“I am not tired nor dehydrated yet I heard her, I hear her every night I spend in this forsaken place, I must plant the seeds the Old Man gave me… a silly, even childish mission for what I have accomplished so far.”

As the sun started to rise, the newly shaped sand hills turned from bitter cold frozen waves to blazing cauldrons of heat testing Ardashir’s limits as he walks towards the end of the desert.

His forehead blazed, his sweat catching the sand in the air, his throat more dry that the desert itself, he notices the raising fever and knew only one thing when he felt a slow growing pain, a small two-point red spot on his right calf was enough to stop searching for any more causes. Since he did not know the exact time of the bite there was nothing strong enough to save him now.

Definitely tired and frustrated, his heart raced, the seeds fell from his hand, he fell to his knees as his sweat rained down on the sand already dizzy, he prepared himself for what is to come. To his surprise he saw the sand shifting in front of his knees…

The dagger unsheathed and ready in his trembling hand let to fall as the small green lash sprout from the ground. Ardashir started laughing as he looked at the growing green that already reached his forehead bloomed with dark orange buds and getting formidably thicker in volume right in front of him.

“Come to me, Ardashir, I have to show you…” The voice he heard, his mind raced and his heart even more as he focused his last remaining powers clenched and started climbing onto the ever-growing body of the unnatural flowery stair… He looked down for a moment, a blurred figure lying on the ground but he was already too high to distinguish and her voice now boomed in his ears more than the air raging over the sands below.

Soon enough as he was engulfed in a cloud his hands reached an end following a dirt surface and as he stepped on the solid ground, everything he knew, everything he endured so far, all of his training all of his encounters all that he ever heard lies or truths alike could not explain this view…

Crimson Garden | Eva Pol Art
Crimson Garden | Eva Pol Art

As he walked further into what seemed to be a floating magnificent garden of smells and colors, all this blooming life swept his former self away as he saw the back side of her figure among the cherry trees… He run towards her but his legs failed him close to her reach, he stopped and knelt.

“Anahita? Goddess is this you?” She turned around while the air blew the cherry leaves on him like hundreds of lips kissing his face, he felt the gentle touch of her eerie almost alive gown of morning glory.

“You came to end me… assassin?”

“Am I still? Is there a dagger in my hands racing for your heart?”

“Who do you serve assassin?”

“Am I still? Is there a blood sealed scroll with a name in my pocket?”

“Do you want redemption assassin?”

“Am I still human? A monster among men or even alive enough to care?” He wondered as his tears sent watery cherry leaves down the ground, she gently touched his jaw and slowly everything started to gradually fade… the bright crimson color, the irritating buzzing sound of life around him…

“I am afraid Anahita… what is going on? No one prepared me for this!”

“Look into my eyes, Ardashir, you are not an assassin now, everyone is nobody in particular here.”

As the whole scenery started to turn white, all the trees the bugs the birds and the waters the wind and the leaves gradually started fading away as he stood still, his sight locked into the luminescence of her sapphire blue eyes.

“I… do I have to regret… do I have to repent… for what I have done?”

“Hush, Ardashir, keep looking into my eyes and you will have your answer.” It was the last thing he heard as the bright white light finally engulfed them both.

Mini stories by Savvas Devourer Tyridis


silk ponge 06




185*45 cm

Date of birth