Plant Guy

I swear, they're alive—the plants, I mean. It's not just the way the ivy coils around the columns like it’s got a mind of its own, or how the ferns seem to bristle when I pass by. No, it's the eyes, the countless, blinking, invisible eyes that I feel on my back the moment I turn away. They're watching, waiting for something, though I can't say what. No...plants don't have eyes. How! How can they see me?

I catch glimpses of leaves twitching in the corners of my vision, as if they're whispering to each other, conspiring. The air is thick with their breath, damp and heavy, and the shadows they cast seem to crawl along the floor like tendrils seeking out the weak spots in my sanity. I used to laugh at such thoughts, dismiss them as nonsense, but now... now I'm not so sure.