The garden began their haunting melody. Eden did not have to look down from his window to know that the tall flowers swayed in tune with each other, each closing their polycoria eye and collectively becoming frilly dancing silhouettes in the moonlight. From his bed, he could only see that the sun had retired, and been replaced with the red moon that was eyelessly grinning at him from outside with crooked black teeth. No matter where he was in a room, they always seem to find him, the sun and moon. The stars had come out, too. Arising from the old dandelions were twinkling puffs, beautiful, unlike them, traveling all the way across the sky and into space, where they get stuck, and remain. Eden wonders if they fall back down when morning comes. The melody of the garden now develops into usual song:
“ Dead... girl. Dead... girl ∼
Laughing...
Red... girl ∼
Dead... girl. Dead... girl ∼
Writhing...
Red... girl ∼ “