Pier Brice sat in his dimly lit room, surrounded by his paints and brushes, his eyes fixed upon the mirror before him. He gazed intently at his own reflection, seeking to capture the essence of his being on the canvas before him. Yet, despite his best efforts, the portrait remained incomplete, the brushstrokes hesitant and uncertain.

As he struggled to capture his own likeness, Pier was beset by doubts and insecurities, his mind plagued by a sense of inadequacy and self-doubt. He longed to create a masterpiece, to capture the very essence of his soul, but the task seemed insurmountable.

For hours on end, he toiled away, his brush moving across the canvas in fits and starts, each stroke a reflection of his inner turmoil. And yet, despite the frustration and the setbacks, he persevered, driven by a deep-seated desire to create something truly remarkable.

As the hours turned into days, and the days into weeks, Pier continued his solitary pursuit, his mind consumed by the task at hand. And though the portrait remained incomplete, he knew that he had come closer than ever before to capture the elusive essence of his being.

After days of struggling to paint his self-portrait in the confines of his dimly lit room, Pier decided to seek inspiration in the lush gardens that surrounded his home. He gathered his paints and brushes and made his way outside, eager to immerse himself in the natural beauty of the world.

As he stepped into the garden, he was struck by the vibrant colors and fragrant scents that surrounded him. The sun shone down from a clear blue sky, casting a warm glow over the flowers and foliage that surrounded him. Birds chirped and flitted from tree to tree, their songs filling the air with a joyful melody.

Pier found a quiet spot beneath a flowering tree, where he set up his easel and began to paint. The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of lavender and rose flowers, and the rustling of leaves provided a soothing background to his work.

As he painted, Pier felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over him. The beauty of the garden had lifted his spirits, and he found himself lost in the process of creating. He worked steadily, his brush moving with fluid grace across the canvas, each stroke a reflection of the natural world around him.

As the day wore on, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden. The air grew cooler, and the flowers began to close for the night. But Pier continued to paint, lost in the beauty of the world around him.

In the end, he emerged from the garden with a completed self-portrait, a masterpiece that captured not only the essence of his being but also the beauty of the natural world that had inspired him. And he knew that he would return to that garden time and time again, seeking inspiration and solace in the beauty of the world around him. Unfortunately, there was where he caught his untimely death. If only he had known, he could have prevented the catastrophic ending of his short life.

***

As Emily stepped out of the kitchen and into the manor grounds her ears were immediately assaulted by the sound of machinery and yelling men. Sighing to herself she took a step forward and found the cobbled path. In the direction it was headed, it was clear that it would lead toward the front lawn of the main Manor. Without having a specific destination in mind Emily stepped forward.

As she tackled the worn cobbled path, her steps became careful and deliberate. Despite the uneven surface and the many cracks and gaps in the stones, she moved with a sense of grace and poise, her body moving in perfect harmony with the surroundings.

As she walked, Emily took in the sights and sounds of the decaying landscape around her. The path was lined with overgrown weeds and tangled vines, and the stones themselves were cracked and worn from years of neglect. Mountains of grave and construction equipment lay with them, a testament that soon the dilapidation would come to an end and the place will once more breathe life.

If anyone had seen the ground they might find it impossible to restore, she thought to herself. Then paused as she recalled that she was one of those. Hadn't she thought that the place was hopeless when she first got there?

But now, Emily saw something more. As her eyes rested on the old cobbled path beneath her feet she smiled. She saw the history and the stories that it held, the countless footsteps that had trodden its surface over the years. She saw the beauty in the cracks and the imperfections, the way that the stones had weathered and aged over time.

For Emily, the old cobbled path was a symbol of resilience and endurance, a reminder that even in the face of neglect and decay, beauty and strength could still be found. And as she walked, she felt a sense of connection to the path. Her life had been ruined but now she was given a chance to restore it. If the cobbled path held on for years - a mindless thing - why couldn't she? Emily surmised.

Steering herself further from the small manor, Emily felt a gush of wind blow past her, it brought with it the scent of nature but laced with the smell of gasoline from the pieces of machinery and generators scattered around the state.

None of the workers acknowledged her as she passed by them which was okay. She wasn't in the mood to chit-chat with anyone.

Soon, Emily found herself in front of the manor and her eyes rested on the dilapidated flower bed she saw when she arrived. There were already a group of men working on its restoration. She smiled.

A few minutes later, rivulets of sweat had formed on her temples. The sun was beating down hard on her and she felt the need to re-enter the manor. But to be given an opportunity that seemed to be a privilege given to only her, she decided that she would do as Jasper said and continue to peruse the grounds. But where to go, she wondered. So she started to enter the mental draft she had of the Brice Manor grounds. She was after all given a ground plan of the manor by the manager of the company.

There was a driveway leading up to the main manor with dilapidated iron gates. The main manor was at the front of the property, overlooking a small garden that was home to a beautiful fountain. The fountain was said to be a focal point of the garden,

To the front right of the main manor, there was a playground. On the front left side was a flower garden.

Emily felt like there was more to the document sent to her so she pulled out her cell phone, opened her documents, and started to read. After a few minutes, she found what she was looking for. The part of the document from the company that she had failed to read. It spoke about the second manor at the back of the main. I really did come unprepared, Emily thought to herself.

At the back of the smaller manor, there was a small pond. Beyond the pond, there was a vast and sprawling garden that was said to have been built by David Brice. Beyond the garden was a vast forest. The document didn't include how many square meters the grounds of Brice Manor were but from what Emily had read, it truly was vast.

Having already seen everything in front of the manor, Emily decided to check the back. She took a beeline and headed for the vast garden mentioned in the document, wondering if it has been restored. Jasper mentioned that they started work on the small manor first, so perhaps it was fixed, Emily thought to herself as she made her way down another dilapidated cobbled path.

She couldn't tell how long she followed the path before her, but soon, Emily came to a stop in front of a sprawling garden that seemed to stretch on for miles. It was a magnificent sight to behold.

As she made her way forward she was immediately drawn to the gate guarding its entrance. It was a wrought iron masterpiece, adorned with intricate designs of vines and flowers that seemed to flow like a gentle breeze. The gate stretched high above her, towering like a giant sentinel, imparting the impression of regal opulence. Its hinges groaned majestically as they swung open, revealing a breathtaking sight. If it was possible, Emily's eyeballs would have fallen out by how wide her eyes were turning at the grandeur presented before her.

Excitedly, she stepped inside and was met with perfectly manicured bushes and blooming flowers that were arranged in an array of vibrant colors. A smile appeared on her lips as her heart took on a thundering beat. Never had she seen such perfectly harmonizing flowers. It seemed like the flowers chosen were meant to have colors that would blend perfectly with each other.

As she walked a little further, she noticed that some of the bushes were cut into the shapes of animals, humans, and even flowers. She marveled at the precision and dedication it must have taken to achieve such a feat. It was as though the garden was alive and breathing, with every inch of it oozing life and beauty. As her eyes took in every detail Emily found a renewed respect for all the workers in the Manor. They have done a great job. No, they did a magnificent job.

Further in front of her, a massive tree stood tall which seemed to mark the center of the garden. Its branches were stretching out into the sky like an open embrace. Emily couldn't contain the excitement in her heart. It was Wisteria brachybotrys 'Murasaki Kapitan. She took a deep breath and reveled in the scent exuded by the magnificent tree.

The tree was undoubtedly the centerpiece of the garden, Emily mused as it towered over everything else and she suspected that if one would climb it, it would provide a panoramic view of the entire landscape.

Surrounding the tree were rows of lavender flowers and roses that swayed gently in the breeze. The sweet fragrance of the flowers filled her senses and was a welcome break from the heat of the sun beating down on her. It also masked the scent of her sweat which had started to irk her.

Like an excited toddler, Emily ran toward the tree and sat under it. She closed her eyes and soon - never planning on it - she fell asleep.

***

Emily was slowly awoken by the distant sound of a woman's cry for help. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and rose to her feet, she was struck by the realization that the sun was almost setting. With an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she peered around her, gazing over the tranquil scenery laid out before her.

She pondered whether the desperate voice asking for aid was merely a figment of her dreaming mind, or whether it was actually reality sucking her back into its folds. All around her, nature buzzed with the hum of insects and the tweets of birds. In the distance, she could make out the sound of burbling water and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

She paused for a moment trying to hear if there was a woman's voice asking for help veiled by the sound of nature. But she heard none. Shaking her head, Emily deduced that perhaps it was all a dream.

As she made her way out of the garden, she bumped into someone. It was Jasper.

From what she gathered of Jasper, he was a man who always had a look of confidence and authority, but at that moment the man looked somewhat distraught, more like afraid.

"Are you okay?" Emily asked as she took a step toward the man.

In an instant, the expression Emily had associated him with returned which forced a frown on her forehead.

"I am fine Miss Hudson. What are you doing here," he asked with that calm and collected tone of his.

Emily smiled. "You asked me to look around and I found myself here. My God this garden is amazing," Emily chirped. Her eyes were wide and brimming with excitement.

Jasper answered her enthusiasm with a smile. "I'm glad you found the garden appealing miss Husdson, " he murmured. "But it's getting late and I believe Aida had already prepared dinner. Let's get back to the manor."

Emily bobbed her head. But as she took a step forward, she glance at Jasper and asked, "Did you hear a woman scream moments ago?"

Jasper appeared to be frowning but that frown was immediately replaced by a smile as he answered, "No Miss Hudson. Let's get moving. It's getting really late."

Emily shrugged her shoulders deciding that perhaps she was dreaming. So she walked alongside Jasper oblivious of the blood that stained the sole of the man's shoes.