I stare down at my handiwork, the dead youth now absent of vitality. His body frozen in place, his eyes still open. I sigh. Is this what has become of my life? Is this the sight I'll always inevitably see?

I look over at my beautiful hedges, at least I have them... But... Alas, they do not flourish thanks to plentiful sunlight. That is where the dregs of my clientele become valuable.

While I have unlimited time here, I prefer to finish this with haste, a preference. I retrieve the chainsaw stuck inside the hedge and pick up the corpse. My black wings flutter as I fly off.

Flying above the suspended landmass I call home, I land at its edge. The gravel underneath is thin but still sturdy. A small messy bush, not fit to be apart of my work, grows just near the edge.

I break off a branch from the shrub and jab it into the dead body on the ground. The branch takes root, rapidly encompassing the remains. The roots veil the residue, masquerading it as a cocoon.

The roots then retract. They are slowly absorbed by the planted stalk. The stalk shifts color as each fragment of root enters it. The bark of the stalk, dark and brown, turns a bright neon pink. Its leaves, a lighter but still gloomy green, transform into a deep rich blue.

I've seen this display countless times, yet it still entices me. The magical colors are a treat to the eyes and the elegant movement of plant spindles are mesmerizing.

Eventually, only bones with a bright stick protruding from them remain. The hypnotic offshoot effortlessly snaps off the skeleton's sternum at my hand's grasp.

Holding the reformed branch, it feels like glass, smooth cold and sticky. I walk up to the edge and stab it in the landmass's side. The stalk melts into the underside, bleeding shiny pink allover the isle's mantle.

The land rumbles. It shakes and it jerks, making it hard to keep my balance. I witness it expand, the dirt thickens and protrudes out into the void from every part of the island's perimeter.

A moment later it's over, the landform is back to normal. I observe the changes, noting that only a few centimeters of land have been added. A far cry from the meters the island gained the first few times.

I remember those times vividly, my first patron, all of it. I wonder when this will come to an end... Regardless, I gather the skeleton and launch into the sky.

I arrive at a section of the hedge I tended to not long ago. The odor of cut plant is still fresh. This is the newest section I've decided to work on, and, I just so happened to get decor for it.

I store the bones, skull, and what else remained inside the twisting branches of the hedge. I never had an artist's touch, but, despite that, I feel quite satisfied with the arraignment.

Having spent the props, I take to shaping the hedge. I snip and snap, removing protruding branches and offshoots. I continue until I make one side of the wall smooth.

I grow tired, or rather bored. The recent drink did return most of my energy, however I can only do the same task for so long. There aren't a lot of ways for me to spend my time here, so I have to get creative.

I take to the skies, zooming across the island to its tip. I float in place there, looking down at the purple void beyond dressed with twinkling yellow stars and... I let go. Having retracted my wings, I begin to fall.

The fall is comfortable. The air here, if it could be called that, is soft and fluffy. It breaks my fall and makes my descent sluggish, as if I'm sinking in a deep body of water.

Indulging in the fall, I stretch out my body, feeling the relaxing currents wax across my limbs. This could be called an esoteric massage I suppose. I sit back and relax.

Moments after, I see it once again. The island with my hedge maze, it is right below me. It's a sizeable garden plot, perhaps half a kilometer at this point? I never bothered to measure.

It only takes a quick gaze for me to confirm it is in fact the same island, the hedge is the same, the decor and many other things. Nothing out of the ordinary.

While my primary goal was to rest in the flowing winds, I also want to confirm this phenomenon. Not long after I found myself stuck here, reasonably I tried many ways of getting out.

This is one of them. I let myself fall for as long as I could. It was scary at first, but I committed to it nevertheless. After falling for enough time, I appear to teleport back above the island.

I'm not sure if it is teleportation, maybe space is wrapping around itself? If that makes sense? In any case, I can only fall so fast, the air here quickly breaks my fall after I reach the speed of my flight, putting an upper bound on my speed. Only a small amount of heat is generated from the friction, it is rather comfortable.

I continue to fall as I reminisce, having passed the island a second time now. This also occurs if I try fly off into the distance. After the island behind me is no longer within view, I return to it at the opposite side.

And it was so amidst my stay here. The only tangible change I've noticed is that as the swath of land lengthened, it took longer to loop around. Opening my eyes, I notice I'm directly below the island.

It's underside is nothing remarkable, the center of the island above where my abode lies is the one with the deepest crust. The crust thins along the sides, making a rough gradient going from meters of depth at the middle, to mere slices at the outline.

The soil of the island is nothing I can make use of. I've tried to dig into it, move it, even tried to destroy the whole island. All was in vain, any dirt I disturbed would wither away. With its withering the island would in sync regenerate. Being wedged inside would only push you out.

Once again, I'm above the island. This time I sprout my wings, and blast off toward it. My goal is the small shack in the middle of the labyrinth, the one I call my house.