The fires had devastated the hundred or so acres just outside the city limits. What once had been lush trees and vegetation, now was barren. She felt sick every time she saw the stark land. Black ashes and charred stumps were all that remained.
Sarah Morton's life was dull. Never very popular growing up, she still had no real friends. A bit on the plump side, her self esteem was extremely low from the years of being teased. All she saw today in the mirror was a fat, ugly, too shy girl that no person would ever love.
Now 26 years old, she had started fresh out of high school at the local glass factory. Over time she had worked her way up to the mail room, making the daily deliveries. Still too uncomfortable to begin a conversation, there were days she never spoke a word.
Management expected the daily mail to be picked up and delivered; by whom, they didn't really care. Rarely did anyone acknowledge her or thank her, all engrossed in their own world of business. Sarah came and went for eight months without anyone even asking her name. It was almost as if she were invisible.
At the end of the day, she returned to her little house on the edge of town. Her yard was full of every type of flower and shrub known to the area; even some new types that she was experimenting with. This was her passion, her enjoyment. It satisfied her in ways the majority of people would never come close to understanding.
The feel of the earth sifting through her fingers was highly erotic; cool dirt, pebbles, textures, all addictive against her skin. After the rains, the muddy soil pulsing with energy, offering itself to her, brought intense pleasure to her body.
On her knees in the middle of hundreds of blossoms, Sarah felt desired. The earth loved her; after all, look how it responded to her. Caring for the plants, nourishing them, she would talk about her day, fingers gently stroking their soft, smooth leaves, imagining how it would be some day soon. It was only a matter of finding the right place.
Driving past the dead, blackened trees one afternoon, an idea began to form. She longed to see the land green and alive once more, but the owners didn't seem to care what happened to it. Sarah believed this plan could bring a small part of it back to life. Just thinking of it made her body tingle with excitement.
Sitting at home that night, Sarah got down to making a list. One column was for the equipment she would need, such as rakes, shovels, hoes and so forth. On the other half she wrote down things like gloves, shears and even a reminder to bring extra water. Almost too keyed up to sleep, it was late before she finally turned off the lights.
Early Saturday morning, her car packed with all the gardening tools and other items on her list, Sarah drove across of town. Traffic was light, so finding the old access road was easy. Today even seeing the desolation around her didn't dampen her mood. Anticipating what the day might bring, her heart pounded.
Rounding a curve towards the back of the property, she pulled to the side and stopped. This felt right to her, this spot, back here in the corner, tucked out of sight. Anxious to begin, she worked herself out of the car, heading for the trunk. By the time half of the tools were unloaded, Sarah was already sweating.
Taking a minute to catch her breath, she spotted a hint of green. Pushing through the ground, reaching for fresh air, was a tiny pine tree. This was it, the sign she was waiting for. Sarah made her way over stumps and broken limbs, going around the bigger branches. Almost tripping several times, she finally made it to the little tree. Falling to her knees, she gently cupped the new growth.
Eyes closed, heart thudding out of control, she worshipped the earth. Moving slowly, her hands ran over her body, unbuttoning her blouse. As if in a trance, she stood, swaying to music heard only in her head. With each piece of clothing that was removed, Sarah became freer. At last naked, she went back down on her knees, fingers frantically clawing through the ashes. The acrid smell didn't seem to faze her, as she searched, dirt beginning to pile up at her side.
Words started to pour from her mouth, softly, as if she were talking to herself. Soon it became a chant, louder, eerie and ghostly. Not having found what she so wildly hunted, she lifted her knees, repositioning herself a few feet over, beginning again. Sweat covered her back, trickling down to the rolls and curves formed as she bent over this new spot.