I heard an odd nose outside. It was well after 8 at night and had long been dark. In a very quiet corner of my garden, I stumbled upon an unusual plant with deep crimson leaves that seemed to shimmer under the moonlight. I have a pretty good handle on what I have planted, and I know a lot of plants. I didn’t recognize this one at all. Its petals were delicate, but something about it sent a shiver down my spine. It looked spikey some, but that was not what was bothering me. I decided on ignoring the feeling. I decided to bring the plant inside and placed it by the windows. It would be where it could bask in the sunlight in the morning sun.
As days turned into weeks, I noticed my beloved pets behaving strangely. Dog, who was a black cat who was always a very lively cat, grew lethargic. He just didn’t do anything like he used to, I couldn’t even get him to play with the laser pointer anymore. My energetic white-haired dog named Cat seemed anxious all the time. She whined at the plant whenever she caught a glimpse of it. It puzzled me but dismissed this, I just attributed their odd behavior to passing phases. It was known to happen. Wasn’t it?
One evening, as darkness swallowed up the house, I heard the eerie rustling sound again, only it was coming from the other room. I got up to go look, and sure enough, the sound came from the direction of the new plant. Investigating cautiously, I found the crimson-leaved foliage writhing, as if it were in a breeze, but the air was still. The sight sent a chill down my entire spine, and the hairs on my neck I now noticed were standing on end. This seemed to confirm my earlier unease. My instincts started hinting to remove the plant. What would it hurt? I asked myself if I waited until morning. So I hesitated, I think I had become drawn to its bizarre allure.
The next morning, waking earlier than normal. Usually. Dog would be asleep on the foot of my bed. Sometimes, he was just doing his own thing. After breakfast, I still hadn’t seen Dog anywhere. I half wondered if Dog was missing, and a trail of crimson petals led you to Cat’s dog bed, which was now empty. Cat only ever slept here or by the front door. Instantly, dread settled over me. I pieced together the horrifying truth. The plant wasn’t just a plant; it was a carnivorous entity that had devoured my pets. Both of them in one night.
Fear and guilt mingled within me as I began to realize that your hesitation had cost my beloved companions their lives. Trembling, I knew I had to act. I armed myself with a pair of heavy gardening gloves and carefully uprooted the malevolent plant. One good tug ripped it from its pot. Suddenly, its tendrils began resisting with a grotesque determination.
As the plant was torn from its pot, an unworldly screech filled the air. The high-pitched sound cracked the window that the sunlight shined through. Almost at once, the ground seemed to shake in protest. With a final yank, the plant came free, its crimson leaves withering and shriveling. Almost all at once, the sensation of evil lifted. The sudden stopping of the screech seemed to leave me almost breathless but very relieved.
I raced outside and, without thinking, buried the plant deep in the ground, far from your home. As the days went by, a sense of peace returned to my now-empty household. Though the memory of my beloved lost pets haunted my thoughts at times, the experience served as a chilling reminder that some beauty hides a darkness beyond comprehension, waiting to consume the unwanted.
And now I have a new fear. What if this plant that I buried begins to grow on its own? Was I also remembering seed pods on the plant when I had pulled it from its pot? Oh, sh… I heard that rustling noise again. I don’t think I can go back out there and look. What should I do?