Welcome to my writing world. Sit back with a hot drink and enjoy a few minutes somewhere other than where you are now.
⏱️ Read time: ~2 mins
🏷️ Genre: Comic Horror Flash Fiction
💢 Content warning: None
This piece (with a nod to Little Shop of Horrors) was originally written for the 8 Days of Ether challenge by Ether Books and it was available to read on their app. Sadly Ether is no more.
Venus Flytrap
Dad bought me a Venus flytrap. We went to a garden centre with my stepmother, who wanted to buy a chiminea. She prodded at the squat black chimneys while Dad nodded along to everything she said. I wandered off and discovered a selection of carnivorous plants between the defensive cacti and some sad-looking geraniums.
I begged Dad to let me have one.
I held it carefully in the back of the car, and when we got home I put it on my bedroom windowsill. The next day I got a book from the library and found out that the Venus flytrap is part of the sundew family, Droseraceae. It sounded like a very happy family to me. Sundew is such a pretty word.
“Elizabeth, that plant is taking over your room,” my stepmother said.
I hated the way she refused to call me Lizzie, like everyone else did. She frowned at the rubbery green leaves that by then had grown to almost two feet long. The top of each leaf had a magnificent pink trap, the same size as my hand. They aren’t supposed to grow so big, you know.
Every few days I would dig up worms and collect beetles from the garden. My stepmother told me I was dirty to play with mud and people didn’t like little girls that were dirty. I talked to the plant at night in a low whisper, so no one else could hear. It would nod its traps in agreement, which were closed tight and stuffed with creepy crawlies.
Four weeks ago, following a meagre harvest from the garden, I stole some sausages from the fridge. After that, it didn’t seem to want insects any more. I asked at the butcher’s what I could buy with my pocket money and he showed me the giblets and turkey necks.
Each day, when I arrived home from school, the plant would quiver with excitement. It got so big I had to stand it on the floor. Dad said I had green fingers.
Sometimes, I didn’t have enough meat for all the traps, and I would lie awake at night staring at the outstretched trigger hairs. They were completely motionless, waiting.
Dad was really upset when my stepmother vanished. I wanted to tell him what had happened, but I was worried it might make him even more miserable, so I stayed quiet.
Instead, I told Dad the plant was getting too big and it was frightening me at night. I didn’t want him to squash it into the wheelie bin though, so we dug a hole on the woody side of the heath one afternoon and planted it there. It’s a popular dog-walking spot.
I did feel a bit sad about what happened, but it was so much better that it was just me and Dad again.
Besides, I was really fed up with spending my pocket money at the butcher’s.
