Beside the Garden A Story by Michael Helvaty

Beside the Garden A Story by Michael Helvaty 1

The monster didn't show itself the first few times Eun-Ji worked alone in the garden, but she could feel its presence. The garden grew in a small plot of land beside the restaurant. Mom planted it in the early spring when Eun-Ji could still see her breath in the morning. Fed by runoff from one of the many nearby mountains, a stream sparkled past at the garden’s far end. Though the land sloped gently down and the garden took up about as much space as a queen-size mattress, Mom claimed every Korean needed a garden. "If you live in Seoul or Busan, any of the big cities, you forget the feeling of dirt beneath your fingers. A weekend trip to the countryside makes you feel better, but our people need to stay connected to the land. " Mom tried to maintain the garden, but she always found something worth doing at the restaurant. All morning she worked with Dad and Auntie, making side dishes. Eun-Ji picked the ends from soy beanstalks and wiped the tables with her favorite blue cloth, but she always managed to get in the way. "Why don't you go water the garden, princess, " Dad suggested. She had bumped into several tables and chairs, distracted by the cherry blossom trees across the street. His thin arm muscles flexed as he stirred the sticky rice in a giant electric cooking pot. If she climbed inside the empty pot and curled up, Eun-Ji could hide and sometimes dreamed of sleeping on a bed of softly steamed rice. With strips of pilfered egg and ham from Dad’s gimbap station, Eun-Ji knocked the door open with her hip and disappeared around the corner. Long slices of ham hung from her mouth like walrus tusks while she filled her rusty watering can. She always felt the first tickling of the monster's presence then. It became a familiar greeting each day, gone as soon as she turned and sloshed water from the full can. She made a game of it. Eun-Ji twisted her head around while pulling creased lettuce leaves from thick stalks. Nothing. A shimmer in the air bespoke recent movement. Eun-Ji decided the monster must be quite small or great at hiding. It might even be invisible. Crouched like a frog, she scooted slowly around her lettuce plants, watching from the corner of her eye. If she could align her body just right, she might trick the monster into revealing itself. Wind bent stalks of grass. Sunlight shimmered on the stream. Birds landed in the tall grass nearby. Every tiny breath of the world startled her. She whipped her head, searching frantically for the monster. She could feel it--a birthday wish coming true--but she couldn't find it. Even if she couldn’t spy the monster, Eun-Ji relished her time in the garden, taking her mother’s words to heart. Pulling weeds, her fingers deep in the soil, she felt a connection to the earth. When bristly tan caterpillars came to snack on her lettuce, she pulled the desired leaves free and relocated the tiny invaders. Snails the size of her pinky nail consorted near ladybugs, and a praying mantis stood sentry from its perch atop her climbing tomato vines. She greeted them and accepted their company, asking them about the monster. 2

“Have you seen it? ” “What does it look like? ” “Where does it live? ” “Does it have a name? ” During the spring, college students filled the restaurant with boisterous laughter and smoked in tight groups outside. Eun-Ji saw them as strange beasts like dragons without wings. Their slang and abrasive words, constant taunts batted back and forth like a game of badminton, were a different language than the kind words of her teacher and parents. They stumbled to the stately campus buildings in the morning, bleary-eyed, still shaking the sleep from their eyes. At night they capered and crowed, comfortable in the dark hours. They didn't pay attention to the garden or Eun-Ji. She made herself small. Held her breath. She stilled her movements and became part of the landscape. To her, it was magic she could access, an instinct belonging to children left alone in nature. On the neverending days of summer, she lost herself in the field of too-tall grass behind the restaurant, searching for signs of the elusive monster. Once tigers, moon bears, and water deer had roamed the field. Eun-ji had only seen them at the zoo. She imagined trolls, fox maidens, and fairies still lived behind the restaurant on mountains which sloped across the landscape on all sides. They were better at hiding than other creatures, or perhaps they walked between worlds when fog settled on the mountains. As the college grew, it added a parking lot in the fall, paving over the wild fields where Eun-Ji played. She hated the parking lot, but the tunnel beside it fascinated her. Mom called it a drainage pipe, but she knew pipes were round. The shadowy cement rectangle beside her garden was a tunnel almost as tall as her. Water trickled endlessly, playing music adults couldn’t hear. Even in the winter when her garden slept and the tunnel’s water froze like a long icy tongue, there was always more water sliding across the top, appearing as if by magic from darkness greater than night. If a monster's lair existed, the tunnel was it. When the first snows fell, Eun-Ji crept past the empty garden. The small mountains encasing her valley were hidden, obscured by millions of falling flakes, and the pines wore bone-white winter coats. The day whispered of potential. Of magic. Trees shook in a wavering line, but was it the wind or a troll caught between worlds? Close to the tunnel, Eun-Ji picked each step with the utmost care. Bent with her nose almost brushing the freshest layer of snow, she examined the space outside the tunnel for monster tracks. She hadn't found any trace of the monster for so long, she gasped when the wind blew snow across tracks. Two lung-shaped imprints greeted her, stamped into the snow just outside the tunnel. 3

"Hello? " she whispered, voice barely audible over the wind. Flakes of snow fell on the side of her face as she tilted it toward the tunnel entrance. "Are you cold? I've brought you a blanket. " Eun-Ji stepped close to the entrance but didn't dare set foot inside. It would be rude to enter another's home without permission. She pulled her baby blanket from its hiding place inside her coat. Mom had kept it in a box beneath the bed with clothes she never got around to giving away. On the blanket, cross-stitched foxes chased rabbits through a prairie rich with trees. Eun-Ji valued the blanket almost as much as her garden. Careful of the thin stream trickling through the tunnel, she placed the blanket off to the side. Unable to help herself, she waited and watched to see if the monster would take it. Her thin gloves offered little protection against the cold, and snowflakes melted in her hair. Still, she waited. Mom called her in for lunch, but Eun-Ji ignored her as long as she could. The tip of her nose felt like ice, and rivulets of snot were frozen on her upper lip. She strained her eyes, willing them to pierce the tunnel's black heart. Something might have moved on one side. Water leaked slower from the tunnel as if blocked by a form. The third time Mom called, joined immediately by a stern summons from Dad, Eun. Ji surrendered. She wolfed down a piping hot bowl of rice cake and dumpling soup, barely inside long enough to regain feeling in her extremities. Throat scalded from the thick creamy broth, Eun-Ji threw herself back into her winter attire and erupted from the house. Nothing stirred in the tunnel, but her blanket was gone. Eun-Ji scrambled up the slope between the restaurant and parking lot, searching for signs of an intruder. The usually sleepy college road felt like the end of the world. No cars drove the slippery street. All the international students were surely holed up in warm dormitories. Nature danced around her--trees bending, birds winging through the sky, and clouds thickening--but no other living thing moved. Suddenly, a soft creak escaped the tunnel. It should have been an unpleasant noise, like a warped door forced slowly open, but Eun-Ji knew it was her monster's way of saying, "Thank you. " She practically danced her way inside. As winter fully settled upon the land, curling cold fingers into the earth and Eun-Ji’s bones, her monster made its presence known in more ways. It started with droppings. Not the most auspicious start to a friendship, but she was overjoyed each morning as she scooped the steaming droppings up with her garden trowel. She saved them against the cement wall of the parking lot on the stream's far side. In the spring, she would mix them with her garden soil. With the droppings came more lung-shaped tracks. They only appeared in the early morning on days when snow dusted the frozen mud. Most days Eun-Ji lurked near the tunnel, hiding behind obstacles--the parking lot's cement wall, tangled tomato vines, and snowdrifts. No matter how well she hid, her monster was better. 4

When the snow was especially thick, she rolled it into fantastic shapes. With a silverware set from the restaurant, she etched textures into hard-packed snow, filling her garden with pixies, fox maidens, fire dogs, golems, and trolls. Surrounded by her creations, she studied them and imagined which might be the closest to her monster's true form. Instinct told her none of them matched. Her own secret desires, never spoken and hovering on the very edges of her consciousness, wished for a sleek monster--something that could fly through the world, appearing for but a moment and leaving behind the memory of its beauty. Eun-Ji imagined herself being such a creature. Her neck tickled, and she knew she was being watched. Eun-Ji accepted her monster's need for privacy and no longer whipped around, hoping to catch sight of her hidden friend. She welcomed the attention and drew comfort from it like one of Dad's long bear hugs. On a whim, she stacked pebbles one day when the snow had all melted. Hikers balanced stones one atop another beside the winding trails of nearby Mount Munsu. "It's a game they play with each other, " Dad said. With a groan, he crouched to retrieve an oblong stone from the dusty trail. Steady fingers hovered above a stack of a dozen pebbles, then he set his addition down without breathing. "When we get to the top, you'll see even bigger piles. The more people who visit a mountain, the more stones they stack on top, and the higher the mountain grows. " Eun-Ji started her own stack beside the garden in sight of the tunnel, but first she wanted to feel the familiar tickle of her monster's attention and know it was watching her. When the tickle came, she scrambled to the other side of her tiny pile. With deliberate, exaggerated movements she plucked a stone from the ground added it to her future mountain. "You can add some too, " she called. "If you want. " More and more often, she spoke to her monster. She aimed secrets and promises toward the tunnel, one eye on the restaurant. Eun-Ji had never feared anything, but the thought of losing her monster, of her parents learning her secret, kept her awake at night. Every day after that the pile grew by a stone in her absence. Her monster mirrored her placement. If she set a stone on top, it would add to the base. If she placed her stone for that day on the left side, it found a spot on the right. Stone by stone the pile grew, and Eun-Ji imagined having her own mountain beside the garden. No matter the season, Eun-Ji always left food outside the tunnel. In the back of the restaurant sat several large ceramic pots. With great care, she would remove the lid and scrape a dollop of brown bean paste onto each of the large lettuce leaves from her garden. Her monster seemed to enjoy them most. Once a week she left them outside the tunnel entrance, afraid that giving them more often would draw her parents' attention. Clicks echoed from the tunnel, and by the time she turned, the lettuce was gone. 5

Fruit was expensive and a rare treat, but Eun-Ji couldn't resist sharing. In spring they bought strawberries from the farm across the river. They grew to the size of the chickadees which scrounged her garden for worms and seeds. After she left a slice of watermelon for her monster, she was shocked to find it had eaten the thick rind. Wild berries were plentiful if you knew where to look. With a plastic bag in hand, Eun-Ji scoured her valley, sneaking through farmer’s fields to pluck swollen purple berries from the edges of nearby mountain forests. The only thing her monster didn't accept from her was meat, and Eun-Ji was secretly grateful. Sliced ham, leftover pig’s feet, and thin strips of bulgogi sat outside the tunnel until ants and other scavengers carried them away. She never feared her monster or its tunnel, but if it had been carnivorous, it might have drawn notice she wanted to avoid. As the seasons passed and Eun-Ji grew, her parents took more notice of her outdoor activities. "Shouldn't there be more lettuce than this? " Dad asked inside the restaurant. Eun. Ji had picked all the biggest leaves and washed them outside. Of course, she had given her monster its weekly snack first. "Our bean paste seems to be diminishing rather quickly, " Mom added. "Honey, try to put out less when the customers ask for it. " At the town market near her school, Eun-Ji spent some of her allowance on extra lettuce and bean paste. The kindly old woman at the vegetable stall threw in some green peppers for free. Though she worried they would be too spicy, Eun-Ji left a few outside the tunnel after smearing them with bean paste. They disappeared like all her gifts, and after that, she added a few of the robust peppers to her shopping list. As she grew, Eun-Ji's ability to go unnoticed vanished like the winter's final meager snowfall. The garden seemed to grow smaller each year, and passing college students saw her head peeking above the tomato vines. Her face grew hot when the handsome young men glanced her way, even if it was only for a second. With changes to her body, she wished more than ever for her monster's ability to remain unseen. Her friends at school always invited her to one activity or another. Some days they chased each other around town, filling their bellies with spicy rice cakes and corner store ramen. Other days they watched a free movie at the community center alongside kindergarten children and half-snoozing elderly residents. Eun-Ji politely declined, only slightly tempted when they regaled her with their tales. Eun-Ji spent her time outside at home. She watered the garden, stacked a stone on each of a dozen piles, and caught her monster up on the day's events. 6

In the fourth year of her monster's residence within the tunnel, Eun-Ji stood beside the entrance sharing the latest gossip with her silent, unseen friend. A cricket chirped nearby and an orchestra of frogs croaked in a distant rice field. In her narrow window of free time before dinner, the sun sank behind the mountains, spilling deep orange light across the sky. "The school stopped giving homework, " Eun-Ji said, her voice bouncing against the tunnel's walls in a comforting way. An unbuttoned spring jacket whipped against her body, and she stuffed her hands into its deep pockets. "Miss Okee said too many students are given self-study books at home on top of the school's homework. I wasn't using those books, but now. . . because we don't have homework, my parents are forcing me to study more at home. " Her monster squeaked like a dog's rubber toy. "I know!" Eun-Ji exclaimed, taking the noise as a statement on how unfair her life had become. "Mom used to talk about our people's connection to nature, but between school, helping in the restaurant, and self-study--I hardly have time to tend my garden let alone visit with you. " She punctuated her rant with a solid stomp of her foot. Her monster barked its displeasure and scraped a hard appendage against the tunnel's stone floor. "Eun-Ji? Who are you talking to? " Mom’s voice stabbed the night like a bolt of lightning. Eun-Ji startled, almost slipping on the stream's wet bank. "Just complaining to myself, " she said, imagining her voice more controlled than it probably was. Eun-Ji walked toward the house and stopped in the garden where she saw the worry on her mother's face. It was the worry of a mother protecting her child, but it chilled Eun-Ji. She had grown careless, and it might cost her everything. "I heard a noise, " her mother said. "It came from that drainage pipe. I never liked that thing right beside your garden. ” Mom shouted into the house for Dad. “Bring your flashlight!" "It was my voice echoing, " she said. Standing between a row of lettuce and cabbage, Eun-Ji felt more secure. The garden had always been her place, just as the tunnel was her monster's. Fighting her panic--a chill in the deepest recesses of her heart-she controlled her voice. "There's nothing in the tunnel. " "You're acting strange. Are you playing with one of your friends? It's okay, honey. Who's out there? " Dad stepped into an evening quickly thickening with mist. His flashlight sliced the dark with wild sweeps. "It's not one of my friends, Mom, " she said, crossing her arms across her chest. "There's nothing in the tunnel. I like it, that's all. " 7

"What's wrong? What's all this noise? " Dad asked, blinding her with the flashlight. "I think there's something in the drainage pipe, " Mom said. "I talk to myself. It's embarrassing, " she said. Centered in the flashlight’s beam, she felt like a suspect in the American crime dramas they watched together some nights. She threw a hand over her eyes. Dad caught the hint and dropped the beam to her feet. "It's fun to hear my voice echo, ” Eun-Ji said. “All my friends live in town, and I get lonely. ” The lie felt small, and she pulled in her shoulders. “If I talk into the tunnel I can pretend someone else is there. " "You can play with your friends after school if you want, Eun-Ji, " Dad said. "Are you caring for an animal in there? If it's a stray cat from the mountain it could make you sick, " Mom chided. Unlike Eun-Ji, the tunnel's mysteries were too much for Mom. She had to know. Eun-Ji was caught like a bird that had once flown into their restaurant. She could admit the truth. Maybe her parents would laugh it off and return inside, still chuckling about her fanciful imagination. Except she recognized the set of Dad's jaw and the determination in Mom's narrowed eyes. Something was amiss, and they wouldn't rest until they uncovered all the facts. She held out a final hope. Her monster had hidden from everyone for so long, surely it could take care of itself. Probing the tunnel's darkest depths, the flashlight would shine upon stone and water, nothing more. Dad crunched toward the tunnel across a carpet of fallen leaves, his flashlight focused on the tunnel. Mist swirled on the edges of light, and a car passed on the nearby street like a visitor from some other world--one where life was normal and boring. Eun-Ji watched from her garden, tense as a rabbit in the presence of a predator. As the flashlight's beam drew closer to the tunnel, focusing into a tighter and tighter circle, Eun-Ji held her breath. Near the tunnel, Dad kicked over a pile of the stones Eun-Ji had stacked with her monster. "Damn, " he whispered. Dad pointed the flashlight at the ground. Stones plinked into the stream. "Sorry, Eun-Ji. ” In that moment of distraction, her monster raced from the tunnel, headed for the nearest mountain. In the limited light, it appeared to be a water deer, cresting the slope beside the parking lot. Its hooves clacked as it bounded across the asphalt. Eun-Ji was halfway up the slope before she realized it, scrambling for purchase with fingers deep in loose dirt. Catching up to her monster overruled any other thought. Her parents called, panic in their voices, but she felt no compulsion to obey. The secret she had concealed for so long was free, racing away from those who had discovered it. Another child might have felt shame or even relief. 8

Eun-Ji cried, caught between conflicting emotions. She cried because life was unfair. She didn't want to grow older, her limbs elongating, chest swelling outward, hips rounding, blood leaking out every month. Stolen afternoons with her monster weren't enough balanced against all the evenings and weekends helping in the restaurant. Even though she could sneak outside to study in the shade of a tree, her education was a chain binding her for another decade, at least. Long legs raced to the end of the parking lot and leaped to what remained of the grassy field. The dirt and fog-moistened grass felt more solid beneath her feet than the asphalt. She pumped her arms as the earth gave way gingerly with each piston kick of her foot. Her monster paused on the edge of the tree line and watched her approach. Mist tickled its long thin legs as if inviting the creature to dance. She cried because her monster was beautiful. Dark fur highlighted patches of white like drops of splattered paint which shone in the dying light. Tiny tusks also caught the light where they protruded from the upper lip. Unlike the traditional water deer which her monster resembled, it bore three pairs instead of one. When she reached the foot of the mountain, it turned and moved purposefully between two trees, its fluff of a tail flicking at a strand of mist. The creature's grace was indescribable to Eun-Ji as it bounded away like a rabbit. "Please!" she screamed, the desperation in her voice strange and unfamiliar. "Wait for me!” Eun-Ji climbed the uneven ground at the foot of the mountain. The wet air filled her clothes, wrapping her in a chill embrace. Fog settled thick on the mountain as if nature would conspire against her and aid her monster in eluding pursuit. Sharp odors of bark, pine, and sap charged the air. Birds cawed deep in the forest, but she couldn't decide whether they welcomed the mist or railed against it. Without looking back she entered the forest. In the warm glow of dusk, trees bent above her, their meandering branches swishing to the wind’s caress. Pine needles glittered with bits of fog as if they had pierced the mist. Drops of its essence hung at the edge of every needle, forever on the verge of falling. Her monster waited on the border of visibility and obscuring fog, shifting between the two like a ghost caught between worlds. They shared a look, and then it was gone, nothing but a flash of tail disappearing to the right. She followed, picking her way over roots and uneven ground by instinct more than sight undeterred by numerous stumbles. Always waiting at the end of her vision, her monster stepped behind a tree, vanished into fog, or disappeared around a bend in the gently-sloping mountain. Its sleek body and constellations of white spots appeared, like an arrow pointing the way, waiting for her to follow. 9

By the faintest glimmer of remaining light, Eun-Ji stepped around a thick tree trunk, past a bramble of undergrowth, and entered a clearing. Fog congregated in a thick mass as if she had found the heart of the spreading mist. Her monster was nowhere in sight, perhaps swallowed by fog. Upon a low branch outside the undulating mist, a deerskin hung across a branch. Pulling in deep breaths and feeling the ache in her limbs, she reached out a hand, fingers trembling a hair's breadth above the deerskin. After a final breath, she steadied herself. Fingers kissed the fur, dark like rich mud. She traced a course around white and black markings, sure they were not the same ones she had been following. Her monster waited elsewhere. The skin’s head hung level with her own. She tilted it upward and studied the long jaw. A finger traced each of the three tusks on one side. They curved like crescent moons, round at the ends and pure white throughout. The eyes caught her attention, gleaming with an inner light. Both dark orbs reflected her face, and she felt as if she were looking into a mirror at her true face. Quick but careful, Eun-Ji removed her clothes, folded them, and hung them beside the deerskin. She couldn't imagine tossing them to the ground. This place demanded reverence. Her naked skin rebelled against the chill evening with goosebumps and shivers. Tendrils of mist snaked around her, enfolding and concealing without touching her. The deerskin was heavier than she expected, dragging her down like a great responsibility--until she opened it and shrugged it over her shoulders. The deerskin felt lighter than a feather, the previous weight a trick of her imagination. Inside it was smooth and warm, hugging her flesh. With only the slightest of movement, the skin fell more naturally upon her, fitting around the curves of her body until they became one with the lush coat of fur. With determined stomps, her feet entered the skin and became hooves. The ground seemed more steady beneath her, no longer cold. Echoes of underground activity and the whispers of trees reverberated through her hooves, filling her body with a new sense of the life around her. Arms became a second pair of legs and hands another pair of hooves, amplifying the voices of nature. The skin closed, spreading a warm tickle from her navel, between her breasts, and up her neck. When the skin's face became her own, the mist condensed around her. Thicker and thicker the mist wrapped around her, embracing her until she felt thin. Her new body narrowed and sharpened into a razor that could cut between worlds. She stepped into the thick bank of white, slicing her way through. On the other side, her monster waited. 1 0

About this story: When I saw the actual tunnel from this story beside a tiny garden near my university, I wasn’t simply inspired. A whole story appeared in my mind as if it had always been there. Like Eun-Ji, I’ve always been fascinated by overlooked places like the tunnel. Part of me hopes they really do hide monsters or they might connect to some other world always waiting in the shadows. About the author: Michael has taught English in Korea since 2005 to students ages 5 -85. His house in the countryside sits at the foot of a mountain from which you can see North Korea on a clear day. He shares his writing experiences on his website: heightofamind. wordpress. com where you can experience the first drafts of his stories step by step. Publication credits include: "Down in the Dirt" v. 33 April 2006 -- 'The Traveler' http: //scars. tv/dirt 033 april 06/dirt 033 april 06. htm#Helvaty “Autistic by Association” -- August edition of Scarlet Leaf Review https: //www. scarletleafreview. com/nonfiction 2/category/michael-helvaty 11 9