Formal gardens make frequent appearances in my stories. Perhaps it’s the riot of colors, or the topiary, or the symmetry of a formal garden that stirs my imagination. I’d like nothing better than to meander down the pathways, admiring the flowers and the pleasing arrangement of manicured hedges. To me, a formal garden is one of the living embodiments of magic… but I wouldn’t want to trim the shrubbery.
What locations do you consider magical?
~ S.G. Rogers
Excerpt from The Last Great Wizard of Yden:
Clusters of sculptures decorated the pathways and grassy lawns. Some were of magical creatures, but there were a great many sculptures of people.
“I can’t get over the number of lifelike statues,” Jon said.
“Well, at least we now know where the party is,” Fred said. When he poked a fisherman with his finger, it left a fading blue imprint in the stone. “Hey, look, it’s a mood ring statue!”
“Thermochromism,” Casey said.
Fred gaped. “What?”
“The rock is heat‑sensitive,” Casey explained.
Jon circled a statue of an old woman. “The level of detail is amazing.”
The central pathway through the garden featured a carving of a man on his knees. His arm was flung over his head, as if to ward off some unseen danger. Another man was prostrate on the ground. Brett frowned. “They look afraid.”
Jon exchanged an apprehensive glance with Kira. She drew her sword.
“Let’s head back to the beach,” Jon said.
“Sissies!” Fred said. He leaped over the prone statue. “Scared of a bunch of lawn decorations.”
Kira scanned the garden. “Perhaps it would be wise to fear their maker.”
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