I jumped out of bed and rushed to get ready for work
as if I could make the day go faster too. I wanted to get back out in the woods
and take another look at those strange flowers. I checked the photos I had
taken of them just to be sure I hadn’t dreamed them. All 127 photos were still
there.
Gran
was in the kitchen drinking her tea. Normally I would have sat with her, but I
was in too much of a hurry. I gulped down some of my tea and snatched an apple.
I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and told her there had been a last-minute
schedule-change at work.
I
hated lying to her, but she couldn’t know the real reason I was heading out
early. I couldn’t tell her about the flowers. I didn’t want anyone to know
about them until I got to check them out again.
My
boss Lyn understood more about flowers than anyone else I knew. I wanted so
badly to ask her about the strange flowers, but I didn’t. It didn’t seem right.
I had found them and I needed to protect them. I wasn’t sure why I felt that
way.
Someone
should be told, right? The Forest Service would need to know about new plants
growing in the woods. What if the plants were invasive and dangerous to the
natural habitat? The thought of telling the Forest Service made my stomach
churn. What if they just dug the plants up and tossed them? I would never know
what the flowers were.
I
made a mental list of things to take into the woods with me. I wanted to take
more pictures, make some sketches and collect some of the fallen petals.
Five
minutes after Lyn returned from making deliveries, I was out the door and
heading home. When I got home Gran was taking her afternoon nap and the house
was quiet. I grabbed my gear and a snack and headed off to the woods.
As
I walked down the familiar trail, it didn’t feel familiar. It felt darker and
more mysterious despite the warm sun shining through the trees. I stopped to
listen for the sound of the flowers clinking together in the breeze. Everything
was silent. No metal flowers. No birds or bubbling creek. I shivered and
stepped off the path and made my way to where I had discovered the flowers.
I
stepped into the small clearing and there they were. The wilting one lay shrivelled on the
ground. The others weren’t looking too healthy either. They were all starting
to wilt. The metal had turned dull and tarnished.
I
pulled out my camera and snapped off a few pictures. I had brought several
sandwich bags with me for collecting samples. I placed the dead petals into one
of the bags, and the withered stem into another. I reached into my backpack for
my sketchbook and noticed something odd on a nearby tree.
I
knelt down and brushed away the dirt and leaf litter from the base of the tree.
The glint of bright copper flashed in the sunlight. A thin line of metal was
flowing up into the tree. It left a line of blackened dead wood in its wake. I
looked back at the flowers. They were strange and beautiful, but they didn’t
belong in the forest. I had to get them out of here. I had to protect them and
my woods. I ran home to get a shovel.
Gran
was up from her nap and had started cooking dinner. She insisted I stay and
help her, informing me that the woods had been there forever and that nothing
was so important it couldn’t wait until after dinner. Normally I enjoyed
sitting down to eat with Gran and listening to her tell me about her day.
Today
I wanted to rush back to the woods. I needed to get those flowers out of there
before they all died or did some real damage to the forest. I pushed my food
around my plate and tried to listen to Gran. If she noticed my acting funny,
she didn’t say anything.
After
dinner I washed the dishes, just like I did every night. I made Gran a cup of
tea and she settled in front of the TV to watch PBS. We only ever watched PBS.
I liked the programming, but I never knew what my friends were talking about
when they discussed the latest cute vampire boy on TV. They teased me endlessly
about it. I took a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and snuck out the back.
I
grabbed a shovel from the garden shed and raced back into the woods. It was
getting late and I didn’t want to be digging up weird flowers in the dark. By
the time I got back, more of the flowers were dead. I carefully packed them in
baggies and placed them in my backpack.
I
dug up the last standing flower and gently placed the roots into a bag. I slid
it into my backpack and cut my finger on a petal. It was small, like a
paper-cut, and stung terribly. I hoped the flower wasn’t poisonous.
It
got dark quick in the woods. By the time I had gathered up the dead flowers and
dug up the living one, I had to use the flashlight to see anything. I checked
the tree with the metal line. It didn’t look like it had moved further up the
tree, but I wasn’t sure.
I
dug a sharpie out of my backpack and marked where the coppery line ended. I
would come back and check it again tomorrow. I swept the flashlight across the
clearing to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I had. A few feet from where I
had first seen the metal flowers, something new glinted in the light.
I
stepped closer; the tiny bronze plants seemed to bend and lean toward me. I was
surprised I hadn’t noticed the new sprouts before. There was no way this could
be someone’s art project. This was some kind of living growing metal. Or maybe
the summer heat was making me delusional.
I
wasn’t sure which option I wanted to be true. I dug up the little sprouts and
placed them in my backpack with the other flowers. I was gathering up the rest
of my stuff when a flash of light bouncing between the trees caught my eye.
Fear and panic washed over me. What if they saw me? What if they wanted the
flowers?
I
clicked off my flashlight and watch for a moment to see if the light moved
closer. Whoever they were, they weren’t on the trail – and they were weaving
their way closer. I headed for home as quickly as I could. The sliver of moon
provided just enough light to keep me from losing my way.
A
shout rang out behind me and I ran. I ran all the way home and straight into my
bedroom, locking the door behind me. I slid my backpack off and leaned against
the door trying to catch my breath. The fear and panic I’d felt melted away.
Now
that I had the flowers home, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with them. I
still felt the odd need to protect them, but I had no idea how to care for
metal flowers. I stashed my bag along with the flowers in my closet.
I
knew it wasn’t the perfect place, but I felt the need to hide them. I could
bring home grow-lamps and potting soil from work tomorrow. I changed into my PJs and slid
into bed. My mind raced with questions and I wished more than ever that I could
talk to Jamie.
*
I sat on the forest floor watching blood drip from my hand. Metal
flowers burst from the ground with each drop of blood that fell. Soon I was
surrounded by them. They swayed in the breeze clinking and cutting. Someone
called my name, but I couldn’t see who. I stood and looked around.
My parents were standing at the edge of the flowers
beckoning me toward them. The wind shifted and the flowers nicked my legs. My
mother was screaming something, her face full of panic. I ran to her. The plant
slashed my legs and dug into my bare feet. I stumbled and fell to the ground.
Sharp stems and leaves wrapped around me, pinning me down and draining my
blood.
*
I bolted up in the bed,
jerking myself free from the nightmare. My heart was racing and sweat soaked my
clothes. It was only a dream, I repeated over and over to myself. Slowly my
breathing and heartbeat calmed and I flopped back onto my pillows.
I
knew I wouldn’t fall back to sleep. I never could, after a nightmare. When
Jamie was home, he would let me stay in his room. I would feel safe instead of
afraid and alone. Now that he was off at college, I would lay awake until
morning trying to convince myself there was nothing to be afraid of. Sometimes
it worked and sometimes it didn’t.
The
night was quiet, and soft moonlight filtered through the window. Everything was
peaceful, or it should have been, but it didn’t feel peaceful. I got up and
checked on the plants. They were tucked into the closet where I had left them.
They
didn’t seem to be bothered by being moved, at least not yet anyway. Scenes from
the nightmare flashed through my head sending a shiver down my spine. I shut
the closet door and crawled back under the covers.
I
was being ridiculous. Why should I be afraid of flowers? Sure, they were
strange metal flowers, unlike anything I had ever seen before, but they were
still just flowers. Or so I told myself. I wasn’t very convincing. I was
repeating this to myself for the third time when a shadow streaked past my
bedroom window.
I
was sure I had imagined it, or else it had been a bat – a very large bat. My
room was on the second floor; there couldn’t be anyone running past the window.
I got up, crept to the window, and peeked out. The night was dark, still and
empty. Hiding weird metal plants in my closet like some pot dealer stashing
dope was making me paranoid.
I
shoved the window open, letting in the cool night air, and watched the thin
clouds drift across the moon. A faint scraping sound caught my attention. I leaned
closer to the window. I heard it again, but it wasn’t coming from outside.
I
listened carefully to the soft sound. It was definitely coming from inside my
room. The sound came again, but louder this time. It sounded like someone
rubbing two knives together, and it was coming from my closet. I flung the door
open. There was no knife-wielding butcher hiding in there, just my junk and the
metal flowers. My backpack had tipped over, spilling the little sprouts onto
the floor.
I
gently scooped them up and placed them back in the baggie. I propped them up
against my backpack so they couldn’t fall again. They looked bigger than they
had been when I dug them up. I pulled out my camera, took more pictures, and
then found a ruler to measure them.
I
wanted to examine them more, but, after my nightmare, I was too afraid. It
would wait until the morning, when I was over the dream. I shut the door on the
sprouts and flopped down on my bed to stare at the ceiling until morning came.
I let all the questions I had spin through my mind without trying to answer
them. There wasn’t any point in trying, not yet anyway.
I
was so tired from my adventure in the woods that I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
As I drifted off to sleep I heard the scraping again, but I ignored it. I had
to be imagining it or dreaming, because flowers don’t move.
