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Intro:
"Never look a gift horse in the mouth," they say in Germany. But what about a gifted plant? Or more specifically, a seed? Taking care of a plant can demand a lot of time and energy. For those who grow cannabis, especially, the expenses quickly add up. And what growers are willing to invest often costs more than just a few bills.
Now, this particular seed was from a very special cannabis plant. Personally, I wouldn’t plant it in the ground. Because if you listen closely, you’ll find out why growing this plant might not be such a good idea.
“Finally! It’s here, my package finally arrived!” Sascha grinned like a little kid, his face lit up with a smile Mary hadn’t seen in ages.
“If only you’d look at me like that sometimes…” she teased, disappearing back into the living room. Sascha didn’t even notice, too busy racing downstairs with the big package to his basement setup.
He’d already cleaned the floor, turned on the heater, and prepped everything. With childlike excitement, he practically tore the cardboard box apart.
After a couple of hours, he stepped back to admire his work: a beautiful, pitch-black AC Infinity grow tent, fully outfitted with lights, ventilation, humidity control, and extra lighting—everything a grower could ask for. It had taken quite a bit of effort to save up for it. Mary wasn’t thrilled with his new hobby, but Sascha convinced her that growing his own was better than buying off the street or joining a club.
“Now I just need some seeds, and I’m ready to go.” He grinned and left the room. At the top of the stairs, Mary was waiting with a skeptical look. “I thought you’d never come up. Dinner’s ready,” she said, nodding toward the dining room. “And don’t forget, it’s Halloween tonight, so put out the pumpkin.”
Throughout the night, kids came by in costumes, parents in tow. “Trick or treat!”
At 10 PM, the last kids arrived, and Sascha handed out the last of the candy. It was late; he doubted they’d get more visitors.
Finally, he and Mary settled in to finish Halloween with a horror movie. After a few scares, the movie ended, and Sascha was taking the empty bowl to the kitchen when a loud knock came at the door.
Mary jolted on the couch and looked at Sascha, who was peeking out of the kitchen. “Probably some teens pulling a prank.” He put the bowl aside and went to the door. Still, he felt a bit uneasy when he glanced at his watch—exactly midnight.
Another loud knock echoed at the front door. Sascha took a deep breath and opened it. A rush of icy air hit him, followed by a thick cloud of smoke that slowly curled around his face. Sascha coughed, waving his hands. “What the hell?!”
As the smoke cleared, two glowing red eyes appeared in the dark doorway, followed by a wide white grin. The eyes and teeth belonged to a large, round, green skull, topped with a black top hat. The visitor wore a black suit and pristine white gloves, one of which extended toward Sascha, offering a single seed.
“Take it. Once you grow this strain, you’ll never want to grow anything else,” hissed a scratchy, sinister voice. It seemed to come from the green skull—or were those giant teeth actually moving?
Shaking off his fear, Sascha took the seed and half-closed the door.
“Cool costume, and thanks for the seed, but don’t smoke out my porch again, okay? And showing up this late on a weeknight? Not cool!”
“Everything alright?” Mary’s voice drifted from the living room. Sascha turned briefly. “Yeah, all good. Just some crazy stoner.” When he looked back, the strange visitor was gone, a cloud of thick, white smoke drifting into the dark sky.
Sascha looked around, confused, but saw no one. “Oh well, free seeds are a nice Halloween treat.” He went back to the kitchen and placed the seed in a damp tissue between two plates. “Can’t wait to see how long this takes to sprout.”
“Are you coming to bed or what?” Mary called from the bedroom. Quickly, he set the plate on the windowsill above the heater and rushed to bed, remembering he had work in the morning.
The next day, Sascha stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep, and noticed that his little “sprouting station” wasn’t as he’d left it. The top plate was shifted, with the tissue poking out from underneath. Suddenly awake, he hurried over, hoping the seed or tissue hadn’t dried out.
Just as he was setting everything back, he noticed a bump in the tissue. Carefully, he lifted it to find a tiny sprout. The seed casing was split open beside it, a long white taproot extending from the little sprout. Sascha stared, amazed—he’d never seen a strain germinate this quickly. It hadn’t even been eight hours since he’d gone to bed.
“Incredible…” he murmured. Mary snuck up behind him, poking him in the ribs. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Remember that guy who knocked last night? He gave me a seed, and… it sprouted in just eight hours…” Sascha was still stunned, yet thrilled. Mary mimicked his awe-struck look, mocking him. “Wow… weeds… I’m so impressed,” she added sarcastically.
Sascha shot her a scowl, grabbed his coffee cup and the plate with the sprout, and headed to his basement. He knew he had to get that sprout into soil immediately before it dried out or got diseased.
He quickly filled one of his pots with soil, carefully planted the sprout, and sprayed a light mist over the soil and plant before setting it up in his grow tent, turning on the lights to their lowest setting. “Now grow big and strong. Show me what you’ve got.”
After a final check of his equipment and the settings on his grow controller, he zipped up his tent and left for work.
When he got home that evening, he could hardly wait to check on his plant. Only twelve hours had passed since he’d left the room with the box, but he was already feeling that tingle of excitement, expecting something positive. And he wasn’t disappointed: the little plant had pushed up a few more inches out of the soil, forming its first pair of leaves.
He stared at the sprout in amazement. Whatever kind of plant this was, it was growing at an insane speed.
Several days went by, with Sascha disappearing into his room every night. Mary wasn’t thrilled—in fact, she was livid. Sascha was spending more time in the basement with a plant than with his own girlfriend.
At first, she just found it annoying. But soon, his behavior started feeling like an obsession. He would barely get the door open before tossing his jacket in the hall, kicking off his shoes, and rushing downstairs to his beloved grow box and the plant inside.
Mary tried everything: she ignored him, tried seducing him, even waited with a nice meal. But more often than not, dinner sat on the table until it was cold, and her mood was just as frozen.
She also noticed his mood was getting worse every time he came back upstairs. He seemed frustrated and downcast.
"Could you tell me what’s going on with you?" Mary demanded one night. "It’s already driving me nuts that you’re only interested in this dumb plant anymore. But at least you used to come up with a smile."
“She just won’t grow anymore.” Sascha looked dejectedly at the floor. Mary shot him a scornful glance. “That’s it? You’re in such a lousy mood because your plant won’t grow? I thought it was something serious."
Sascha rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t get it. But this is my passion, okay? And yeah, it puts me in a bad mood. I’ve tried everything… but she just won’t grow. She looks like she’s drying out…”
"Then water the stupid thing already!” Mary snapped. All this tension and ignoring her—all over a plant?
"Very funny. Of course I water it, but it doesn’t seem to absorb any of it.” Sascha didn’t seem to notice Mary’s anger. “I tried organic and mineral fertilizers, I tested the pH…”
"Oh, put whatever you want on it! I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the couch! Or better yet, inside your precious growbox!” Mary stormed off, slamming the bedroom door behind her.
The next morning, she woke up feeling uneasy. She felt a little guilty for yelling at Sascha and kicking him out to the couch. On one hand, she was still frustrated and hurt that he’d been ignoring her for so long. But on the other, she could kind of understand—after all, it was his hobby, and he’d spent a lot on all that equipment. If nothing was going as planned, it must be pretty disheartening.
Quietly, she crept into the living room, hoping to snuggle up to him in the few minutes he had before work. But when she looked around the corner, the sofa was empty. "He didn’t really sleep in his tent, did he…?"
Suddenly, a hand touched her shoulder, and she spun around in surprise.
"Good morning. I made breakfast. Sorry about the last few days. I’m only going to check my plant in the mornings now, I promise. Evenings are all yours again.” Sascha pulled her into a hug and kissed her on the cheek.
Mary was totally thrown. Just twelve hours ago, he’d been all down and zoned out, and now he was practically beaming at her. “Did you smoke your brains out in your room last night or something?”
Sascha laughed it off. “Nah, the plant’s not ready to harvest yet. But it’s growing again!”
Mary’s smile faded a bit. "Wow… I mean, I’m glad you’re in a better mood, but this emotional rollercoaster… over a plant? And what’s that on your finger?” She pointed at a small bandage on Sascha’s index finger.
"Oh, that? I was trimming the plant last night and cut myself a bit. No big deal.” He turned back to the kitchen, where the delicious smell of rolls and eggs was already drifting in.
Mary still didn’t quite understand how the growth of a plant could affect his mood so much, but at this point, she didn’t really care. He’d promised to spend more time with her, and she didn’t feel like pressing for an apology.
Sascha actually kept his word. He would only check on the plant in the morning, right before heading off to work, and Mary even allowed him a quick fifteen-minute watering session after work. The rest of the evening, he spent with her on the couch.
One night, as they sat together wrapped in a blanket, Mary felt Sascha shivering. “Are you cold?” she asked, grabbing one of his hands. “Whoa! Your hands are freezing. Are you coming down with something?”
She placed her other hand on his forehead. "Well, at least you don’t have a fever, thank goodness."
Sascha waved her off. “No, no, I’m fine, just a little cold.” Mary looked at him skeptically. “Sascha, you’re wearing a T-shirt, a thick sweater, and you’re under a blanket in a heated room. How can you be cold? I really think you might be getting sick. Maybe skip work tomorrow and see a doctor.”
Sascha’s eyes flashed. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. I should stay home. I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow and get a note.”
Mary stood up and held out a hand to him. “Right now, you need to get into a warm bed.” As Sascha groaned and grabbed her hand to haul himself up, she noticed dark spots on the sleeves of his sweater. The past few days, she’d seen similar stains on his clothes, mostly around the sleeves. “Did you get fertilizer on there? Great. Go ahead and toss it in the wash. The other clothes just barely came clean.”
Sascha’s eyes darted around nervously. “Oh, yeah… it’s the fertilizer. Iron fertilizer... Sorry.”
When Mary tried to tug on his sleeve to help him out of the sweater, he held her hands firmly. There was a flash of fear on his face, and it was clear he hadn’t expected her to notice the stains. “STOP! Uh, sorry… I’m just really cold. I’ll take it off upstairs.”
Mary stepped back, startled. "Alright… Come on, you should really lie down.” She grabbed him by the wrist, and Sascha clenched his teeth as if he was trying to stifle some kind of painful sound. Mary let go, watching him with concern.
Sascha stood there, swaying slightly. He forced a brave smile. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Like a stubborn child, he rejected any help and slowly shuffled his way upstairs, even bumping into the doorway as he passed.
Once Mary had tidied up the living room, turned off the TV, and locked the front door, she went to the bedroom. She could hear Sascha’s teeth chattering as he lay under the heavy blanket, still shivering.
Mary changed and slipped into bed next to him. “Just don’t get me sick, okay?” she whispered, snuggling up to him. When she tried to stroke his arms gently, he jerked away, pulling his arms under the blanket and rolling onto his side.
Mary let it go. As odd as his behavior seemed, she didn’t feel like getting into it right then. It was late, and she had work in the morning. For a moment, she wondered if she could leave Sascha alone tomorrow. But sleep quickly overtook her.
It was the middle of the night when she woke up to strange noises. Two voices, talking. One was Sascha’s—that she recognized immediately. But the other voice was unfamiliar, strange. It was a bizarre mix of friendly yet menacing, rough yet playful—a tone that sent chills down her spine. But she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Sleepily, she threw off the blanket and crawled out of bed, opening the bedroom door quietly and peering down the hallway. There, in the dark hall, stood Sascha.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mary asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Sascha stood motionless for a moment, then turned to face her. He was even paler than before, visibly trembling all over.
“Oh, nothing. Just letting a coworker know I’m not coming in tomorrow," Sascha muttered. Mary barely had to think before she knew he was lying.
She looked at him skeptically. “At one in the morning?” She shook her head.
“Oh, he’s always up late, and I wanted him to let the team know first thing… in case I’m too sick to call in myself tomorrow.” Sascha’s eyes darted left and right, always avoiding Mary’s piercing, skeptical gaze.
“Whatever. Just get back to bed!” she huffed. “Just one more second; you go ahead,” Sascha replied, “I need to check my plant one last time. I think it might need watering…”
Mary stared at him in disbelief. “Well, I’m already awake, and as long as I have the strength…” Sascha started to excuse himself. Mary shook her head again. “Do whatever you want. But don’t expect any sympathy tomorrow if you feel even worse. And stop calling your creepy coworkers on speaker at night. If you have to go out, at least talk like a normal person,” she called as she returned to bed.
But as soon as she was back under the covers, she heard the creaking of the floor again.
Sascha swayed on his feet for a moment, then turned and shuffled toward his basement room.
When Mary woke up the next morning, she looked to her side—Sascha was lying next to her, asleep. Even though she was still a bit mad at him for yesterday, she was relieved to finally see him sleeping peacefully. She pulled the covers aside and climbed out of bed.
On her way to the kitchen, her gaze fell on the stairs leading down to the basement. She was definitely curious about what drove Sascha to go down there every day, even while sick. By now, she wasn’t really sure if he was just growing a plant down there.
Unable to contain her curiosity, she walked quietly down the stairs to the basement. As she moved down the hallway toward Sascha’s room, a pungent and familiar smell met her. This wasn’t the first time Sascha had grown a cannabis plant, but she had to admit that none had ever smelled this strong before.
Curious, she opened the door to his room, and the smell became even stronger. A bright lamp shone out from a large, open black grow box, while the rest of the room was darkened. She remembered how the room looked when Sascha first started his hobby here: clean, organized, and tidy. Now, it was utter chaos. Soil, cut leaves, and half-spilled bottles of fertilizer were scattered across the floor. On the tiles in front of the grow box, there were numerous reddish stains on the floor. They could have been mistaken for blood, but they weren’t thick enough. Next to the tent stood two large containers with a similarly colored liquid, probably the same substance he had spilled on his clothes.
Pure curiosity drew her closer to the tent. She wanted to reassure herself that it was just a plant that Sascha was giving so much attention to.
“What are you doing?” Sascha's voice suddenly sounded behind her. Startled, Mary turned around. Sascha was standing behind her, staring at her.
“Damn! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” she snapped at him. “I just wanted to see what you’re up to down here.” She tried to cover her shock. But it wasn’t easy: Sascha’s presence had a threatening aura. His gaze seemed both empty and penetrating, like a burning iron – keen, observant, and somehow demanding. His eyes had a faint reddish gleam.
“Well? Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, gritting his teeth. Mary shook her head. “I was going to look in the tent, but…” she answered hesitantly. Sascha seemed to relax a bit at that. Still holding direct eye contact, he took a few steps toward her and reached out a hand. “Come on, you have to get to work. I’ll walk you upstairs.” He wore a broad grin on his face.
Mary sidestepped his grip and darted past him out of the room. “That’s fine. I’m heading out right now. Let me know if you need anything,” she called back as she left the room and climbed up the stairs—her whole body covered in goosebumps. The way Sascha had spoken to her was entirely uncharacteristic. Mary tried to convince herself that it was surely his illness that made him act so strangely. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it and hoped that by the time she came home, Sascha would be back to his old self or, at the very least, lying in bed as expected, given his condition.
At work, Mary couldn’t focus on any of her tasks. Her mind kept drifting back to Sascha and that morning’s encounter. She decided to take a half day off and headed home in the late afternoon. On the way, she stopped by a pharmacy to pick up some flu medicine, cold remedies, and other suitable medications. Sascha needed to recover as soon as possible.
Mary unlocked the door and stepped inside the house. “I’m home early. Sascha? Are you upstairs in bed?” She assumed he was already asleep when she suddenly heard his voice coming from the basement. But he didn’t seem to be talking to her. Skeptically, she approached the basement stairs, stopped at the top step, and listened.
“I can do it! I’ll finish this, trust me!” Mary heard him shout, his voice agitated. Then, that strange, chilling voice came again. “We will see, I’m curious.” This was followed by a mocking laugh that sent an icy shiver down Mary’s spine. She froze in place, barely daring to move, as she heard the click of the door handle from Sascha’s room down the basement hallway.
She waited tensely, wondering who would emerge and walk up the basement stairs. If that terrible voice belonged to a guest, she was sure that person would appear any second.
Another click told her the room had been locked. So, everyone must have left, she thought.
After a nerve-racking silence, she heard shuffling footsteps. Only a few seconds later, Sascha appeared at the other end of the stairs. His face was even paler, and he was unsteady on his feet and disoriented, just like the night before. As he climbed the first step, he saw Mary standing at the top, looking shocked. It seemed as though he wanted to say something, but then he simply collapsed.
“Sascha!” Mary rushed down the stairs and lifted him from the floor. She looked around quickly: the door to his room was locked, and no one else was in the basement hallway. Before she could question him, she had to get him back to bed.
A few strenuous minutes later, she dropped Sascha onto one side of the bed and let herself fall wearily onto the other. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling as she wondered what could possibly drive him to go down to the basement again and again, despite his fainting spells. When she looked over at him, she saw he seemed to be asleep, his breathing deep and steady.
Exhausted, she raised her arm, intending to brush her hair out of her face. But when she brought her hand up, she saw it was smeared with blood. Jolted with adrenaline, she turned and began searching Sascha’s head for any sign of a wound. If he had a head injury from the fall, she couldn’t let him sleep now.
After thoroughly ruffling his hair and finding nothing, she felt relieved. But another question quickly followed: where had the blood come from? She started examining Sascha systematically, from top to bottom, while he slept deeply. His whole body was incredibly pale and gaunt. She only now noticed how much weight he seemed to have lost in such a short time.
Her breath caught as she reached his forearms. Countless small and large punctures covered both arms. Gently, she pulled back one of his stained sweater sleeves. His arm looked as though someone had pricked it with burning needles. Blood was still trickling from some of the larger punctures.
“What on earth happened?” Mary hoped so much that Sascha would simply wake up and give her an answer. But he continued sleeping soundly. She was at a loss, torn between calling an ambulance or trying to reach a doctor. But what would she even tell them?
She decided to let it be. Sascha didn’t seem to have a head injury, so she chose to let him sleep, planning to confront him about his injuries the next day and then drag him to a doctor. But this time, she wouldn’t just drift off herself; she’d stay on guard, that much was certain.
Mary switched on the small TV in the bedroom and flicked through the channels, looking for something simple to keep her awake and distract her from everything that had happened.
A few hours passed before Sascha suddenly stirred. “Have to…have to go down…” he mumbled, tossing and turning. Mary placed a hand on his chest. "Hey, it’s all fine. You’re in bed; I brought you up here.” Sascha grabbed her hand and pushed it aside. “Must go down…the plant needs water,” he whispered.
Growing frustrated, Mary grabbed his shoulders to keep him from getting out of bed. “You’re sick! And you have these strange injuries! You’re staying in bed until you tell me what happened and a doctor examines you!” She could feel Sascha’s tension building as it became harder to hold him back. “I have to water it! The plant is thirsty!” Sascha raised his voice, flailing his arms wildly. Mary had no choice but to throw herself on top of him and hold him down.
Just as Mary was on the verge of exhaustion, Sascha gradually calmed down. His body relaxed, and his breathing became deep and even again—unlike Mary’s, which was ragged. First, she had to drag him up the stairs, then keep him from having a fit.
Mary felt her muscles give out as exhaustion washed over her. She had done everything she could to restrain Sascha, and now, with him finally calm, her last ounce of tension faded. Her eyelids grew heavy, and sleep began to pull her under.
With a soft groan, she slid down onto the bed beside him, her head landing heavily on the rumpled pillow. Her thoughts blurred and slowed, as she tried to stay awake. “Just a quick rest…just for a second…” she murmured sleepily, casting one last glance at Sascha’s peaceful face.
She sensed it as she closed her eyes. Deep inside, something told her she couldn’t let him out of her sight. But it was too late.
When Mary awoke in a panic and looked around, Sascha was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t in the bed, nor had he fallen to the side. The bedroom door was wide open. Mary didn’t want to believe it, but she was certain of where she’d find him now.
With silent steps, Mary crept through the hallway with a flashlight. She could have turned on the lights, of course, but she didn’t want to give Sascha any warning. Whatever he was doing in that basement room, she was going to find out tonight.
She was only a few steps from the basement stairs when she once again heard Sascha’s voice murmuring in the darkness. “Why…why won’t they get bigger?”
“You have to water them more,” came that scratchy, eerie voice, followed by a mocking laugh that froze Mary’s blood.
“But…” Sascha stammered, “I’ve done everything…I can’t give any more…”
Summoning all her courage, Mary flung the door open. When she looked into the room, she saw Sascha kneeling before his grow box, his head buried inside it. No one else was there.
“Who was just here? Where does that terrible voice keep coming from?” Mary’s voice rose, though fear was tightening her throat. “Sascha! I’m talking to you!”
She moved toward him with determination. As Mary grabbed Sascha’s shoulder, he flinched as though even the slightest touch was agony. His body was a shadow of its former self: pale, emaciated, as if life itself had been drained from him. His skin was stretched thin and waxy over his bones, so pale that every vein was visible beneath. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mingling with the grime that had settled there. His hair hung in wet, matted strands, and his lips were bloodless, almost blue. His entire body looked more wasted than it had throughout this whole ordeal.
But his eyes were the worst. Wide, dull, and circled with dark rings, they stared blankly as though his gaze reached deep into nothingness. When Mary tightened her grip on his shoulder, he finally reacted, slowly turning his head toward her. His face twisted in a blend of exhaustion and madness as he began to speak, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I…I had to water them…the plant…she was thirsty,” he gasped, then turned his head back. He looked lovingly into the grow box: an impressive specimen with deep red blossoms. “But unfortunately, I just can’t water them anymore.” His head drooped, and he looked downcast.
Mary tried to pull him up, but she felt tremendous resistance. As she looked closer, she couldn’t believe her eyes: long, dark roots protruded from the soil, having burrowed into the skin of his arms and pulsing rhythmically, like a heartbeat. Some of the roots slithered up his arm like snakes, finding their way to his carotid artery.
“I’m giving her everything…everything I have…and still…the blossoms just won’t grow any larger,” Sascha whispered. “He says I need to water them more…but I can’t give them any more.” His head jerked uncontrollably, his mouth twitching spasmodically, his eyes rolling wildly.
Then, all at once, his body stopped convulsing, frozen as if turned to stone. Slowly, he turned his head to face Mary, his eyes wide open. A wide grin stretched across his face. “YOU can water them…” His manic expression grew more grotesque as he painfully wrenched one arm free from the roots’ grip.
Sascha tried to grab Mary, and she snapped out of her terrified paralysis with a loud scream, backing away and bursting into tears.
“You have to water them! HELP ME WATER THEM!” Sascha shouted as he shakily rose from the ground. In his hand, he held a pair of scissors. “Come on, just a little. She’s thirsty! She’s almost complete!” He shuffled slowly toward her, snapping the scissors open and closed.
Mary didn’t hesitate and bolted out of the room. In a split second, she had turned and closed the door. She pressed her entire body against the dark, creaking wood as Sascha hammered against it with surprising force.
“Mary! Come back! She’s thirsty! Mary!” His fists pounded against the wood like a torrential rain. Mary didn’t know how much longer she could hold her ground. “You have to water her! I don’t have enough! You have to water her!” he repeated over and over.
“YOU must water her!” came the sinister, chilling voice, and in an instant, there was silence. The words pierced Mary to the core, and she didn’t dare make a sound. On the other side of the door, only that horrifying voice could be heard.
“YOU must water her! Finish it!” The voice shattered the silence. A moment later, Sascha’s murmuring resumed softly. “I have to water her. She’s thirsty. I have to water…thirsty…have to water…” His voice faded slowly into the distance.
Mary was torn inside. She couldn’t just leave Sascha alone now, but she also didn’t want to be stabbed by him. Calling the police or an ambulance probably wouldn’t help either. Summoning all her courage, she pressed down on the door handle… but it wouldn’t open.
Again and again, she rattled the handle and pulled with all her strength, but the door remained shut. “Sascha? Sascha! Open the door, please!” Mary’s desperate cries received no response.
“In the final blooming phase, it’s best to leave the plants undisturbed.” The words came from the darkness, whispered right by her ear, and Mary’s heart skipped a beat. The icy voice seemed to crawl down her back, paralyzing all her limbs. She hardly dared to turn her gaze in the direction of the voice.
Two glowing red circles gleamed hungrily in the impenetrable darkness behind her. A wide mouth with clattering white teeth spread across a large, green face. “Or would you rather take over the watering yourself? HYAHYAHYA!”
It was too much; Mary’s vision went black as she fainted.
When she came to, everything was silent. It was still dark around her, and the night seemed far from over. As soon as she regained her senses, she pressed herself back against a wall as quickly as she could. Cold sweat trickled down her neck — she remembered that she hadn’t been alone in the hallway. Her eyes darted left and right, scanning every inch of the corridor, desperately hoping to find nothing and no one.
Cautiously, she stood up and felt along the wall for the light switch. A bright light flooded the corridor within moments, stinging Mary’s eyes like salt water, though she kept scanning every corner vigilantly. The hallway was empty.
Then it hit her like a shockwave. “SASCHA!” Mary rushed to the door, nearly yanking it off its hinges as she opened it.
Mary stepped into the basement room, and a chilling shiver ran down her spine. The air was stuffy, filled with the dense, moldy scent wafting from Sascha’s grow box. The smell was different from before — much sharper and more pungent.
Sascha knelt on the cold floor in front of the tent, his body emaciated, his skin waxy and nearly translucent. Black roots jutted out from the front of the grow box, snaking around his arms and neck. Some of the dark tendrils bored deeply into his skin, pulsing with an unnatural rhythm. Sascha’s eyes — dull and wide open — stared into nothingness, and a faint murmur drifted from his parched lips.
“I… must water… I have to… water…” His voice was barely a whisper, a faint mantra he repeated with the last of his strength. Mary stepped closer, bending down. She wanted to touch him, but her hand shook and stopped short. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her heart pounded. She wanted to shake him awake, free him from those dark roots — but the closer she got, the clearer the truth became: the plant had drained every bit of life from him. He was only a shell, his last breath escaping in a faint, “I… must water…”
Mary’s breath caught, and a cold, helpless horror gripped her. The roots continued pulsing in his arms, clinging to him like hungry fingers, greedily reaching as if they longed for one last drop of blood from his body. She backed away slowly as Sascha’s hollow murmur echoed hauntingly through the room.
A heavy hand fell like lead on Mary’s shoulder. Paralyzed by fear, she couldn’t move a muscle. Thick clouds of smoke filled the room within moments.
“Harvest time…” whispered the menacing voice, followed by a mocking, booming laughter that made the room vibrate. Mary’s heart beat so fast it felt like it would burst from her chest.
Beside her, the grotesque face she’d seen in the hallway emerged once more from the darkness: two fiery red eyes, a wide diabolical grin full of fist-sized teeth on a venom-green, round skull. It seemed nothing like a human being, yet the creature was dressed in a black suit with a top hat.
Mary was overtaken by a peculiar sense of helplessness. She could do nothing but stand there, staring at the creature. It walked toward Sascha’s lifeless body, looking down on him. “He really gave it his all. Hats off.” It gave a short nod before shoving the lifeless body aside. “Now let’s see…” The creature bent deeply into the grow box.
When it emerged, it held the severed plant in both hands like a holy grail: a jet-black stem with twisted, dark red branches and blood-red blossoms. The branches twisted upwards like horns from the thick main stalk, bearing red-green, almost ashy leaves that stretched towards the blossoms like crooked fingers. The plant itself radiated an eerie aura.
“Beautiful… isn’t it?” The creature slowly walked towards Mary, turning its head gradually. The large teeth clattered excitedly as it came just a few steps away, inhaling the scent of the plant with every breath.
Mary still couldn’t move a single muscle. Rooted in place, she stood there, staring into the fiery red eyes that drew closer and closer. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Oh now, no need for tears. You know what? I’ll help you forget all of this if you’ll do me a little favor,” the creature hissed, holding out one of its large hands, clad in white velvet gloves. “You won’t remember a thing.” As terrifying as its voice was, it brought Mary a strange sense of familiarity.
“You’ll forget all of it,” the voice whispered now from every direction, like a sinister chorus. Between its thick teeth, a large, glowing joint smoldered, trailing a thick cloud of smoke. With a deep inhale, the creature burned almost half of it. Then it opened its wide mouth and exhaled a sea of all-consuming smoke through its fangs. “All you need to do is hold onto this for me.”
Mary couldn’t see anything through the smoke, but she felt something pressed into her hand. She clenched her fist around it and nodded, her face streaked with tears. “I agree.”
“Done deal! See you soon, Bloody Mary.” Once again, the creature’s hellish laughter made the room quake as the smoke began swirling faster and faster around Mary until everything faded from her vision.
A few months later…
Mary stared absently out the window of an old truck. “Hey, are you okay? You look kind of down,” someone said from the driver’s seat. She turned her head and looked into the face of a young man who seemed oddly familiar.
“Sorry, I’m just a little out of it. No matter what I try to remember, it just fades away before my eyes, like thick smoke and fog.” The young man beside her looked at her with slight concern. “I have to say, though, that stuff is really something else. Maybe you took one too many hits. But that color…” The young man gazed dreamily into the distance, “that color, the taste, and the smell, wow, just amazing.”
Mary still couldn’t remember who this man was or what she was doing here. Yet somehow, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be, as if she had been searching for the perfect place for something and had finally found it.
“I think it’s great that you decided to go with our CSC. We have a huge facility with multiple growers and hundreds of members who all cultivate at home with the best AC Infinity gear. When that weird guy in the costume and top hat recommended you, I thought he was just some nut. But then I tried this weed… Wow!”
Mary reached into her pocket thoughtfully and pulled out a bag filled with seeds. She looked at the bag and the reddish seeds inside with a sense of wonder. The young man beside her glanced over with excitement. “Is that what I think it is? That must be close to a hundred seeds! If those are from that blood-red strain, we’ll start planting them right away and make some clones. We’ll hand out some of them to our members at the party tomorrow as a Halloween special. How about we name the strain ‘Bloody Mary’?”
Outro:
And so, soon enough, the evil would take root. Or will Mary come to her senses once more? We may never know. But one thing is certain: although most plants don’t drink the blood of their gardener, they certainly consume a lot of their time. This is why one should never cultivate found or unknown strains, because you never know how much life force you’ll pour into that plant, or what kind of reward awaits you in the end.
Created by ChatGPT
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