The Houseplant (standard:horror, 1175 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Jun 27 2003	Views/Reads: 4223/2436	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
An old woman's bizarre relationship with her houseplant ends in disaster.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


It pained Kirsty to see her mother crying. “Nana is in hospital
preparing for heaven,” she had said. 

Kirsty's curiosity got the better of her, so she headed for her
grandmother's bedroom.     The flaccid plant looked so out of place on 
the sunlit windowsill, the dry soil crying out for moisture. 

Kirsty picked up the watering can and made for the bathroom. As she
filled the watering can, she accidentally knocked a glass beaker into 
the sink, shattering into a thousand pieces. The young girl attempted 
to pick up the glass, and grimaced as a shard pushed into her finger. 
She removed the offending splinter and ran cold water onto her bleeding 
finger. 

Kirsty returned to the bedroom and emptied the entire contents of the
watering can onto the lifeless plant. A droplet of blood fell onto the 
soil, an action that sparked off a reaction. 

She stepped back and watched in amazement as the plant came to life,
flourishing in the moist soil. Kirsty rubbed her eyes in disbelief, 
when bloom after bloom appeared on the healthy-looking stems. Red, 
yellow, orange, blue, pink. There must have been twenty different 
coloured blossoms adorning the revitalized houseplant. 

Kirsty smiled contently and felt a sudden inclination to be close to her
mother. She took the staircase two at a time and reached the bottom, 
just as the telephone rang. Her mother snatched up the receiver and the 
transformation on her face was plain to see. With trembling hands, she 
dropped the telephone. “It was the hospital... Nana's coming home... 
She's fine.” 

Kirsty hugged her mother, inwardly knowing that the houseplant had
somehow been behind her grandmother's miraculous recovery. 

The thriving houseplant appeared to revitalise Beatrice on her return
home. Her cheeks gained colour and her wrinkles appeared to have 
vanished, leaving a healthy complexion. Her stooped walk was replaced 
by a youthful gait. 

The pleasant aroma from the plant circulated around the household and
the atmosphere that it created affected everyone in some way. It was as 
if the resurrected plant was somehow rewarding the inhabitants of the 
house. 

Kirsty's mother no longer suffered with asthma, a complaint that she had
suffered with since she was a child. Her teenage brother, David was 
cured of his acne, and spent hours in front of the mirror, 
congratulating himself on his success. 

Kirsty's father was becoming an embarrassment to his children, as well
as his wife. He had taken to wearing clothes usually associated with 
teenagers, and the last straw was when David had caught him wearing his 
baseball cap and sunglasses. 

Yes, the Ambrose household certainly was thriving. Kirsty sat on her
grandmother's bed with her dolls, occasionally glancing up at the 
colourful plant. “This here is Grace and this one in the pink dress is 
Sally. Would you like to play with my dolls, plant?” 

“You're cuckoo are you.” 

Kirsty's head snapped around to see David standing at the door, and 
grinning. “What do you want spotty?” 

“I have no spots look,” he smiled proudly, thrusting his clear face
forward for his sister to see. “Who were you talking to?” 

“None of your business.” 

“It's that grotesque plant isn't it?” 

“The plant is not grotesque, it's beautiful,” insisted Kirsty. 

David walked towards the plant and it seemed to withdraw. “It's
grotesque! What type of plant is it anyway?” 

“It's a special plant.” 

“Rubbish. It's a freak.” 

Kirsty jumped up from the bed. “No it isn't spotty; now go away.” 

“I have no bloody spots!” He turned to the plant and snapped off a
bloom. 

“Leave it alone!” screamed Kirsty. 

“Mother!” came the cry from outside. The children leant out of the
window to see their grandmother lying on the garden path, being 
comforted by their mother. 

“See what you've done!” yelled Kirsty. 

David shrugged. “What are you talking about?” 

“You did that to Nana.” “You're crazy.” 

“Spotty!” 

“Bed wetter!” 

“Spotty! Spotty! Spotty! Spotty!” 

David picked up the plant and hurled it through the opened bedroom
window. 

“Noooooo!” screamed Kirsty. 

The sun disappeared behind the clouds and the room was bathed in
darkness. Kirsty sat on the bed and sobbed, watching the departure of 
her brother. 

“You asked for it, Kirsty!” 

For twenty minutes the little girl wept, until she heard the sirens grow
louder. Nobody had to tell her who the ambulance was coming for, but in 
her heart, she knew that it was too late. 


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