The Haunting Work of Brian Evers

Few among the Abraian upper class can’t list the city’s top names in gardening: Julien Bradger, with her ‘fairy gardens’ littered with shiny objects; Camryn Jaek, whose arboreal weave takes years to materialize; or Maeve Anastasia’s kaleidoscopic ‘living stained glass’. Some may even admit respect for Atticus Melo’s work on low-maintenance gardens, allowing those who can’t afford help make their homes more presentable.   But there is one name only ever whispered, whose work is commissioned only in secret: Brian Evers.   His career as a gardener began in the wake of the Monhalian Uprising. It was in this environment, the violent splitting of our continent, that Mr. Evers carved his niche. Where others peddled in delicate beauties, he cultivated plants known for their poisons, ones brandishing thorns as long as your hand or marks that looked like skulls.   One would assume such an offensive tactic would doom him to failure. Yet one would also be forgetting the allure of the taboo, especially at a price only society’s betters can afford. The next several years saw his business quietly expand. First with small orders: a potted plant to hide on a shelf, or one that smelled foul to convey offense to a neighbor.   The Lady Elegant Marie Pearsons was his first true commission. After a season of renovations, her new garden was unveiled in a party half the city's upper class had an invite to. A maze of paths wound through sections representing aspects of the human psyche. Ms. Bradger’s art displayed elation, while Mr. Jaek’s showed connectivity and sensuality.   The sections Mr. Evers designed depicted aspects like despair and jealousy. Arguably too well, as some attendees reportedly fainted at the sight. Sticky vines dangled and clutched at hats, flowers hissed if one got too close, and some snacked on visiting butterflies. Attendees traumatized by the display got little sympathy from Lady Elegant, who said in interviews her neighbors should “stare a little deeper into their own reflections.”   Mr. Evers had no comments to add to his work, neither apologizing nor explaining. Another daring move that earned him even more appeal, though no commission since has earned him quite as much notice. Despite his apparent success in the years since, he still maintains his oft-ignored stand in the market, a dark smear on the otherwise vibrant sight.   While other gardeners compete for the honor of designing the central plaza, Mr. Evers is hired for All Hallows or to grow natural barriers to restricted areas. His name rarely adorns attributive plaques and never shows in lists of recommended artists. Even his commissioners hide his work in forgotten corners guests rarely visit. Many such commissioners are the very same scarred by Lady Elegant’s stunt. But if you were to stumble upon one such corner, a polite guest would never ask who the artist is.   Because the only thing worse than paying for such a sight, is admitting it.   True Class reached out to Mr. Evers for comment on this article, but did not receive response.