I stepped out of the car onto the dusty car park right outside the concrete entrance. My nose prickling with the scent of petrol. I walked up to the man, my feet stepping along the cobbled floor.

Then out of the blue past the gates and the car my eyes filled with scarlet, orange, violet, yellow and turquoise. Eyes pulsing from monochrome to polychrome in an instant, I stepped on to the grassy path in front of the Dutch tulips, hyacinths, daffodils, and orchids the petrol scent was washed away by the smell of the hyacinth pollen so pungent I could almost taste it on the tip of my tongue.

Music played in the background as I gazed upon the field of trees and flowers placed and kept to perfection, a river snaking through the resort guarded by a windmill that watched upon the resort of Keukenhof.

Walking on, I saw patches of orange and black, purple and green, yellow and blue all arranged into spirals and shapes made on rises and falls even though the land around the area was flat. All other flowers I had seen before became colourless in my mind as I gazed upon the tulip I knelt beside. The orange pigment had consumed the flower saturating it, infused like nothing anywhere else in the planet to such an extent that the colour could not be captured by any camera and do the flower real justice. Each individual flower stood out, shining when alone on the lush green grass but together with different colours the flowers painted a picture in front of me that carpeted the floor.

As I climbed the oak stairs that snaked up the inside of the windmill I saw light coming in from the doorway at the top, beaming down to me as I climbed. Without haste I stepped out onto the platform at the top to stare at the area I had just been through in more awe than ever. The fields striped with colour around the resort. A protective wall of the tulips I en masse.

After walking around for some time we sat down for lunch at the back of the resort in front of the looking down the central path with a water fountain in the middle. The sound of the water stuck in the back of my mind as I watched and listened to a small setup with whirring cogs and tooting tubes bellowing. The whole setup works all because of a simple feed tape spun by a motor. The front of the machine showed moving characters and the smashing of symbols. Staring at the hybrid of an organ,

 a percussion set, and a complete play all packed into a box in front of me. I was truly mesmerized as I looked at this while eating my apple cake.

After with the time nearing 4, we strolled back to the gates looked back at the resort realizing that I had just spent 5 hours looking at flowers and I was completely willing to stay longer. The huge entire 

Landmark built to show off a flower bred to be beautiful. A simple plant had been turned into an extremely popular world of imagination and amazement. 

I fell back into a life of black and white

Henry Means. OundleSchool

  • Henry Means
  • : at school. 13. Oundle.
  • : youth_(12_–_18_as_of_31st_december_2019)
  • : This is the first time this story has been published.