La Danza de la Muerte: Seven Stories by Donald Jacob Uitvlugt

Author:Donald Jacob Uitvlugt [Uitvlugt, Donald Jacob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2017-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

A new Springtime is coming. Man has had a good run, and see what we have made of it. Plants do not move as we do, but they do move. The reign of the Plant Kingdom is coming, and there is nothing we can do to stop it.

―Stephen Woodgate, Sefer Etz Hayim, p. 392.

Brit turned to see another Steve-thing standing beside her. She saw no difference between it and the thing she had trapped within the tree. It smiled wide.

“We told you that Mother was the secret to eternal life, Mrs. Woodgate. You will be our new Eve, or die.”

Something rustled in the branches above her head. The seed pods were moving, something wriggling inside them. She looked back at the second Steve-thing. She had a good idea what was in the pods.

Brit turned and ran. As fast as she could, out of the clearing, down the path through the woods. Branches grabbed at her sweater. Or were they the Steve-thing’s hands? She broke free and ran faster.

“We can see why Stephen cared for you so much.” The thing’s voice called after her. It was close. Too close. “You have a determination that’s quite endearing. You will become one with us.”

She made it to the house. The back door was still unlocked. She ran inside and opened her storage cabinets, flinging their contents onto the floor. She knew she had it. She had to. There.

“Here we are. You’ve had your fun. Be a good girl.”

She rose from the floor and turned toward the door. The thing stood there, a smug look on its face. Brit smiled at it while her hands worked furiously behind her back.

“Come. Mother longs to taste you.”

“Give her my regrets.”

She threw the turpentine in her hands on the thing. Confusion registered on its face. She flicked her cigarette lighter and tossed it.

The thing screamed as the flames rose up. It rolled on the floor, but Brit kept dumping more fuel on it―the rest of the turpentine, paint thinner, whatever she could find. She didn’t let the fire go out until it had reduced the thing to ash.

She sat on the floor and took a moment to collect herself. Then she went to the garage and got the chainsaw and the gasoline for the lawn mower. She raced back to the clearing. The tree screamed from its lightning strike mouth as she cut it apart. Then she started in on the fallen seed pods. The creatures within wailed like infants. A small hand reached out to her. She swallowed back her vomit and closed her eyes until the crying stopped.

Satisfied with what the chainsaw had done, she covered everything in gasoline and let the flames devour all.

That was where the police found her, weeping and cursing. She wouldn’t let them take her away until she saw it all burn down.

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