The Corpse Flower

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It had been over a month since the old man picked up his corpse flower. I was alone in the back of the shop when he walked in and banged on the counter. “Is anyone going to serve us?”

“Hold on!” I made my way to the front of the store as fast as my power chair could go.

At first, I did not recognize him. No longer bent over, he stood taller. He walked without the aid of his cane. On his arm was a woman at least thirty years his junior, her blond hair reached halfway down her black dress.

“Pick out anything you like,” he said to the woman as she wandered off to look at the flowers on display.

I leaned forward in my chair. “I take it the corpse flower worked.”

A grin came to his face. “Like a charm. I don’t have an ache or a pain.”

“How did you make the tonic?”

“It was easy. I boiled the flower and made a tea.”

I felt a chill. “The whole flower?”

“Yes, it took the entire flower to make enough tonic.”

The woman returned with a bunch of red roses. “I love roses, don’t you?”

“Yes, but they are not as lovely as you.” His hands showed no signs of arthritis as he counted out the money and picked up the change.

I looked at my reflection in the glass door as they left. My arthritis had trapped me in this chair and would eventually imprison me in a bed.

Sequoia had spent a lot of time with the bud he took from the vine. I closed the shop early and went to find out what he was doing with my corpse flower.

Someone must have died. The stench filled the air as soon as the doors of the freight elevator opened.

Sequoia was there to greet me. Small red buds appeared just below his leaves. “I have a surprise for you.”

Before I could speak, he wheeled me to the far end of the greenhouse. There, a scarlet flower, the size and shape of a bathtub,...

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... hard. “What do you suggest?”

“You!” Sequoia’s buds exploded.

Yellow pollen filled the air. It stuck to my black sweater and skin. I looked like a bumblebee. “What’s going on?”

Sequoia lifted me out of my chair. “You’re going to pollinate and feed Blossom.”

I tried to break free, but my arthritis had reduced my strength to a fraction it was in my youth. “Think what you’re doing.”

He placed me inside Blossom. “I have thought.”

I tried to crawl out, but fell back. All I managed to do was coat Blossom with pollen. I attempted to reason with him. “If you kill me, how are you going to get the vines for your offspring?”

“I’ll pick up the phone and place an order,” he replied. “I have been placing your orders for a long while. Don’t worry, no one will miss you.”

As Blossom’s digestive juices dissolved my flesh and darkness came upon me, I regretted not using the herbicide.