Candle in the Attic Window Part 22

Some rose as high as my shoulder,

their lush leaves unfolding.

I was delighted at first

when they all sprouted heads

with succulent eyes and mouths.

Still, if it rained during summer,

they were quick to complain

about pests and blight.

Most grew feet

at the base of their stems

and wanted to walk;

shocked, I refused,

though I cried when I cut their feet off.

As the weather grew colder,

they challenged the frost,

demanding blankets;

if smaller, their feet did grow back.

Damp and shrivelling,

they began to whisper behind my back,

so I heaped them with cuttings

and latched them in,

hoping they'd die.

One winter night,

I could hear them plotting

in their hidden place,

the uneven tread

of small, softened feet,

and on the chill air,

sudden as the snapping of twigs,

their louder voices, angry,

calling me Mother ...

the rusted gate hinge creaking.

Mary E. Choo's speculative poetry and fiction has been published in a wide variety of magazines and anthologies, as well as online and electronic publications. She is a two-time Aurora finalist, and has received a number of honourable mentions in The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror and The Best Horror of the Year (online lists). Her short story, "The Man Who Loved Lightning", appears in the anthology of fusion fiction, Like Water for Quarks.