The Garden of the Golden Children

By Ashley Hutchison

We all live somewhere.

The children of Somewhere attend a prestigious Academy with a spectacular garden that celebrates its finest pupils. The history of the Academy is rich as chocolate, but things are not as they seem.

Experimental and emotional, Ashley Hutchison delivers a somber, enchanting, and dark journey in this must-read literary fantasy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lost Boys Press
• Release date: Feb 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781735676999

Book preview

1.

(Just Because)

We all live somewhere.

And indeed, theirs must have been the best Somewhere, because they always referred to the others outside their borders as Somewhere Else. When the people of Somewhere spoke of the shadowy places beyond their own territory, they did so with a gesture above their heads that looked as if they were clearing the air of dust.

But Somewhere was never spoken of without an emphatic capital S, so the people knew that theirs must be special.

The astonishingly white marble was succumbing to an invading army of ivy. Many windows on the lower floor were barely visible, and those on the second floor were mere inches away from the crawling vines. The people of Somewhere were desperate to be rid of it, and each day a unit of the community would take turns removing the green intruder, tearing away at the ivy until the Academy was once again pristine at dusk.

But such was the determination of the plant to swallow the structure, that it returned each night while the people slept, creeping across the marble at such an alarming rate that they felt they were doomed to repeat the process of removing the ivy until the last human grew brittle with age and died.

Then, at last, would it triumph.

A small minority of Somewhere were certain it was an ill omen, for the ivy had appeared at the Academy following the arrival of the new Headmaster and the disappearances of eight children.

But the majority said that was superstitious nonsense.

Plants behaved like plants.

And the Headmaster was a gift.

It never occurred to the people before his arrival to litter the landscape of the Academy with roses. Those flowers were grown exclusively by the gravemaids, who used them to adorn burial mounds and bodies. As such, when some saw the Academy grounds, they felt as if they were standing in a gravesite. But the Headmaster chided the people for this custom, telling them that beautiful things did not belong to the dead.

It also never occurred to them to send children to Somewhere Else for what the Headmaster touted as an elite education. And over the course of his tenure, he selected eight children whom he believed exceptional, and therefore would benefit from higher learning in the mahogany hallways of the academies of Somewhere Else.

The knowledge they will learn will be a benefit to Somewhere, he told the Council while his slender fingers with knotty knuckles curled over the shoulders of the first boy who would depart for Somewhere Else.

This will benefit Somewhere, echoed the Council to the people.

This will benefit Somewhere, the people told one another with hopeful expressions.

The children had yet to return and Somewhere had yet to benefit.

Soon after the first boy left, there appeared a life-sized golden statue of him in the great Garden of the Academy. Then another of a young girl sometime later.

Then another.

Then another.

Then another, until there were eight golden statues in the Garden.

Sons and daughters offered to the foreign winds in pursuit of knowledge to benefit Somewhere.

Thoughts on time, the first.

Time is a hell of a thing. It shuffles everything along, willing or not, toward ruin with absolute indifference.

I once wrote a list of things Time has taken from me when I was much younger, but as so often happens, it was also lost to Time, that ever-reaping force.

Or I might have lost it somewhere in the mess in my room I haven’t yet bothered to clean.

Ellis spent an inordinate amount of time wishing she didn’t have to attend the Academy.

She hated the roses.

They reminded her of her grandmother—an owlish soul in an ancient body with hands scored by deep valleys between the mountain ranges of her arteries and veins who spent her life tending to the dead along with the other gravemaids.

Her grandmother was magic. Magical. A supernatural being whose sweetness was unmatched by anything the world had to offer, who brought Ellis wide smiles and the soft yellows of sunshine to color her childhood.

When she died, she took all of those things with her, and Ellis spent the following years burrowing so far into herself that her skeleton and muscles and organs and gristle became something resembling her own burial mound—miles of dirt and darkness between her and the light above.

Still, the roses of the Academy loomed large over her, watching her as she said goodbye to her parents at the broad red door to the school, their suffocating gazes serving only as a reminder of what was lost.

That crushing sensation continued into the hallways of the Academy, which were so thoroughly clogged with students clad in their uniforms that Ellis was certain she would be lost in a sea of red and gray fabric. Then a familiar hand shot through parallel towers of teenaged boys and ripped Ellis between them like a fisherman reeling in his catch.

A tight hug. Arms that she knew better than her own.

Kal.

I am so glad I found you. I have been looking for you for twenty minutes! He pulled back and studied Ellis with his seafoam gaze.

Ellis threw her hand up between them. I know, Kal, this uniform doesn’t suit me. I really wish it weren’t red.

He took hold of Ellis’ hand and the pair moved with the crowd, which had begun its march toward the amphi-theater. It doesn’t look so bad, but I think blue would suit you better.

Any other color would be better than red. I feel like I belong with my grandmother and the other gravemaids wearing this.

Kal examined Ellis more seriously as they approached the amphitheater that was situated next to the Garden. His hand loosened its grip on hers. My parents aren’t too happy either with the changes the new Headmaster made to the Academy, but I have to attend. What would I do without the training I need to work with medicines?

I know, was the best answer Ellis could come up with.

He smiled and used his free hand to smooth out the collar of her vest. Come on, let’s go find a seat.

Kal weaved the two of them through the crowd of idly chattering students to an open spot near the edge of the amphitheater. Patches of moss married the stone of the structure and was cool to the touch when they sat down next to each other.

Kal remained close to Ellis. He was always close to her, and she never minded. It had been like that since the two were little. Kal was like a part of Ellis. Her body. Not like a limb, mind you. Limbs can be lost and are hopelessly expendable. You could learn to live without an arm or a leg, but Ellis could not say the same about Kal. He was her ribcage—a network of solid bones encircling everything of hers that needed protection.

He was her best friend.

Did your parents cry when they were leaving? Kal asked as he plucked small handfuls of spongy moss while they waited for the assembly to begin.

With each handful he uprooted, the heavy smell of soil in the