"Ouch!" yelled a started young Jack, who had just fallen down on the grass next to his friend Zoe. They were playing around in their parent's back yard as usual, and had managed to scramble themselves onto the ground and get dirty again. "Dinner!" their mother called out to them. "Beat you to it" said Zoe, and she started running back up to the house. "No fair!" Jack yelled back, slightly annoyed but also a little hungry he chased after his younger sister. As they were running back up the long hill to the house, they tripped over an oddly placed rock that hadn't been there the day before and fell into a puddle of mud. As they got up to brush themselves off, they both started to wonder about the rock. How did it get there? Who put it there? What was its sole purpose, just to hurt them? Of course, Jack couldn't let a rock beat up his little sister like that, so he started trying to move it and eventually budged it a couple of inches from where it originally was. It was obviously just placed down; even though it was a few inches deep into the soil, it had rained the day before, so the ground had naturally settled. As he continued budging the rock, their mother called out to them one more time. "Coming!" yelled Zoe, clearly a little hurt but now curious about the rock too. As they worked together to reveal what could have been underneath it, they found themselves uncovering a hole in the ground. As they flipped the rock over, Jack slipped back into the mud, giving Zoe the first glimpse at what could be under the mysteriously colored rock."Woah, that's crazy" said Zoe, and at that moment, she got sucked in.

Ten minutes later—armed with a flashlight, a rope, and Zoe’s absolute certainty that this was a great idea—they squeezed into a narrow tunnel beneath the rock. It sloped downward, smooth as if it had been carved long ago. The farther they crawled, the brighter it became.

Then, suddenly, the tunnel ended.

Jack and Zoe stepped out into sunlight and gasped.

Before them stretched a garden unlike any they had ever seen. Flowers shimmered as if dusted with gold. Vines climbed gracefully over stone arches, and trees bore fruit in every color imaginable—deep blue pears, silver apples, glowing red berries. A stream wound through the grass, humming softly, almost like it was singing.

“This is impossible,” Jack said.

Zoe grinned. “That’s my favorite kind of thing.”

As they explored, they noticed the garden seemed to respond to them. When Zoe laughed, blossoms opened wider. When Jack touched the stream, the water sparkled brighter. In the center of the garden stood a wooden sign, weathered but clear:

“The garden grows for those who care for it.”

They spent the afternoon watering plants, pulling gentle weeds, and tasting fruit that somehow knew exactly what they liked best. Time felt slower, kinder.

When the sun began to dip, the tunnel softly glowed, inviting them back.

It was their fourth time down there, where hours passed like seconds back home, and they could spend as long as they liked in the safety of the garden. When they eventually got tired, and wanted to leave, the tunnel did not glow this time.

Jack noticed it first. “Zoe,” he said quietly, pointing. “It’s gone.”

Where the tunnel entrance should have been, there was only a thick wall of twisting vines, braided together so tightly they looked more like rope than plants. Leaves rustled, even though there was no wind.

Zoe swallowed. “The tunnel doesn’t just… close.”

A soft voice answered her.

“Only when they must.”

Jack and Zoe spun around. Standing near the old apple-colored tree was a figure they hadn’t seen before. It was small—about Zoe’s height—with skin like smooth bark and hair woven from ivy and tiny white flowers. Its eyes shimmered green, reflecting the garden itself.

“I am Rowan,” the inhabitant said. “And the garden needs you.”

Jack stepped protectively in front of his sister. “We just want to go home.”

“You will,” Rowan said gently. “But first, you must help us remember how.”

Zoe tilted her head. “Remember what?”

Rowan led them toward the center of the garden, where the stream had gone quiet. The singing hum Jack remembered was gone, replaced by a heavy silence.

“The garden is fading,” Rowan explained. “Not dying—forgetting. It was made to grow through care, curiosity, and kindness. But fewer visitors come now. Fewer hands tend it. Fewer hearts listen.”

Jack frowned. “So… you blocked the tunnel?”

Rowan nodded. “Only until you help restore what was lost.”

They knelt beside the stream. Rowan showed them how to clear fallen stones that blocked the water’s flow. As soon as Jack lifted the last one, the stream began to hum again—soft at first, then stronger.

Zoe followed Rowan to a patch of wilted flowers. Instead of pulling them out, Rowan asked her to speak to them—to tell them why she liked the garden. Zoe felt silly, but she did it anyway. As she spoke, color slowly returned to the petals.

“You don’t fix a living place by forcing it,” Rowan said. “You fix it by caring.”

As the siblings worked together, the garden brightened. Trees straightened. The air warmed. Somewhere above them, vines loosened and shifted.

Finally, Rowan led them back to the rock. The tunnel shimmered into view, glowing brighter than before.

“You’ve helped us remember,” Rowan said, bowing slightly. “And now the garden will remember you.”

Zoe smiled. “Can we come back?”

Rowan’s eyes sparkled. “The garden opens to those who listen.”

Jack and Zoe crawled through the tunnel and emerged into their backyard just as the sun dipped below the fence line. The rock sat quietly, ordinary once more.

But this time, Jack noticed a small white flower growing at its base.

Zoe noticed it too.

And they both knew the garden was waiting.