Fertile Soil

An ecological body horror. . .

TW: there may be allusions to sexual violence (between plant and human) but nothing explicit or graphic

This is my submission for The Milk and Honey June Writing Challenge by

Meg

. The theme for this week’s challenge is ecological horror.

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Clara stretched out her smile before Lory opened the door, pretending that everything was fine, that she was fine. Still, she figured that Lory would still see behind her fake smile—after all, she had significant experience with miscarriages.

Beside Clara, Robert rang the doorbell again. On one hand he was holding a Tupperware with cassava cake. Lory had told them that they didn’t have to bring anything for dinner, but Clara had insisted. The past two weeks had been really hard for Clara, but Lory had been doing everything she could to be a friend to her. It was the least Clara could do to bring something to the dinner table tonight.

The couple waited for a beat, another beat, then a few more. Robert was about to ring the doorbell again when the door finally opened.

“Welcome, guys!” Lory said, her eyes immediately going to the Tupperware. “I told you you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“It’s your favorite,” Clara said, taking the container from her husband’s hands. “From that restaurant you love.”

Lory’s eyebrows raised and a smirk crossed her lips. “But Mr. Sweet’s is an hour away!”

Clara chuckled and offered the cassava cake to her. “Robert got it yesterday on the way home from work. It’s no big deal, don’t worry.”

Lory took the dessert. “Thanks, Robert.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Robert said.

Clara blushed and hoped that her cheeks weren’t reddening. They had told Lory that they would arrive by seven. It was seven-thirty. It was especially embarrassing that they lived only two houses from them.

“It’s no problem. Come in, guys! The kids are setting up the table right now. Dinner will be served soon.”

They entered the house. The lights seemed too bright, a stark contrast to the black world outside. Her life had been shrouded in utter darkness these past few days. On her left in the dining area, she heard plates rattling and utensils drumming on top as Miguel and Lucia set the table. In the living room, she heard a movie playing on the television. Their neighbor’s house had the sounds of joy, sounds of life. The lights didn’t just turn and stay on; they reminded her that her life was in disarray but would soon be back on track. There was hope. She was feeling what Lory had felt before the birth of her twins, and look at her now.

As she thought of all this, her hands instinctively touched her stomach. The gentle pressure of her fingers reminded her that she was no longer carrying a baby. Tears pooled under her eyes, so she repeatedly blinked them away. She didn’t want to cry. She had done enough crying for the past ten or so days; now it was time to celebrate what she did have.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Lory said, heading to the kitchen at the end of the hall. “Take a seat in the living room while I check on dinner. I cooked chicken adobo and ordered barbecued pork.”

“That sounds delicious, Lory,” Robert commented, taking a seat on the sofa.

Clara followed him, sitting on the other end of the sofa. She first noticed Lory’s lighter on the coffee table. She had been telling her to stop smoking. Apparently all those words had fallen on deaf ears. Well, it was her life, anyway.

In front of them the TV was showing a romantic comedy from the early 2000s. They watched it with empty eyes, their minds focused on the words that they wanted to say to each other but couldn’t.

They weren’t on good terms right now. They had never fought since the miscarriage, and that terrified Clara even more. She and Robert had just been pretending that it was alright, that nothing was wrong, yes the baby died inside her but they could try again.

Only, Clara could feel his disappointment. She was thirty-seven. For Robert, that was a little too old to get pregnant and to start becoming a mother. They had married four years ago and had been trying to get pregnant for the past three. It was a cruel world when it took her first pregnancy away from her, from him. Robert seemed to care more about his son that had fallen, his son that he had never held, more than he cared about Clara’s present condition.

It didn’t help that Robert’s parents had been eagerly and unwaveringly pressuring them to get pregnant. “You’re getting old, Clara,” Robert’s mother, Heidi, had told her once. “You don’t have much time to give us a grandchild.”

It disgusted Clara how Heidi had been asking her to give her a grandchild as if she were merely asking for a piece of chocolate.

Robert was suffering, but she was suffering, too. It seemed that their marriage had become a seesaw: on one end was his disappointment and her growing hatred for him, the other end their love for each other and their declining hope that they would become parents soon. Some days it was the latter, but most days the former was heavier.

The weight of the thousands and millions of words that they wouldn’t say to each other hung over them like heavy clouds full of rain. At this point, it was a kind of liberation if they finally fought, screaming to each other what they’d been holding back.

Clara watched the movie on the TV, hearing the words but not comprehending it. The images were merely moving pictures that had no substance or meaning to her. Her heart skipped a beat as the seconds ticked by, long seconds that seemed to stretch forever.

Finally Lory entered the living room with a genuine smile on her face, her right dimple showing, and told them that dinner was ready. Clara immediately stood up, making her dizzy for a second but eternally grateful for the presence of her friend. With Robert behind her, they walked to the dining room.

As Lory was crossing the doorframe, she heard a thud from under the floor, as if something was thumping from underneath. She felt her shoes rattle.

“What was that?” she asked, suddenly stopping. Robert bumped into her.

Lory shook her head. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just rats, probably.”

Clara questioned her in her head but didn’t say anything else. This was an old house. Who knew what hid in the corners of this place? She didn’t want to find out, and she was thankful that she didn’t live here.

You’re more thankful living with your husband right now? That voice in her head. Always that voice that just wouldn’t go away.

She dismissed the thought and sat across the table from Miguel, who smiled at her and poured her a glass of iced tea. Beside him, Lucia passed to her the bowl of rice. These were good kids. Odd, but obedient and respectful.

Clara remembered the many times she had found Lory’s children’s behaviors strange. Once when they were nine or ten, she visited them so she and Lory could spend the afternoon together just talking and cleaning the house (Lory had asked Clara for her help). Clara had been tasked to clean the living room, to which she had obeyed. While sweeping the floor, through the window she saw the twins crouching in the garden, their backs to her. She couldn’t see what they were doing but they seemed to be digging something and whispering to each other. When they stood up and faced the house, she saw that their hands and the sides of their lips were covered with mud and their fingertips stained red.

She didn’t know why it was red, and she didn’t want to know. Surely they were just playing around, just being kids—this was what she had told herself, gaslighted herself into believing, really. Why they had that red substance (It’s blood, Clara, that voice in her head said) or why their lips were smeared with soft muddy soil, she tried to ignore.

And there were the occasional times when Clara would catch them just staring at her, their faces blank, as if they were entranced. But that had (mostly) changed now, now that they were fourteen and maturing steadily.

The five of them ate in silence, letting themselves get accustomed to the night. Clara ate spoonful after spoonful of rice and the adobo, while Robert munched on a stick of barbecued pork. He always chewed with his mouth open and it was like nails on a chalkboard, and tonight was no exception. Her blood boiled with annoyance, but she kept it to herself. It was also the little things like this that slowly made Clara’s husband seem like a stranger to her.

After a while, Lory finally asked, “How’s the food?”

Clara drank her iced tea. “It’s good. You were always a better cook than me, you know.”

“That’s true,” Lory said, which brought a chuckle from the kids.

Beside Clara, Robert was silent. Usually, upon hearing a quip like that, even if it was a joke, Robert would step in and argue that Clara was better, that they shouldn’t kid about something like that at the expense of his wife. But now, nothing. Perhaps she was slowly becoming a stranger to him, too.

“It’s great that you two are here,” Lory said. “I’ve been really worried, Clara.”

Oh, so she was going for the kill immediately. Alright, then. This was great. The less small talk and the faster they would address the elephant in the room, the better. Better to get this miscarriage out of the fucking way.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Clara took another sip of her drink. Suddenly the iced tea was too sweet and the adobo was too salty.

Lory smiled. “I’m sure you are. I know you’re very strong.”

God, Clara didn’t need to be patronized right now. But she was a guest, so all she could do was to return her friend’s smile. Trying to avoid the topic for a second, she turned to the kids and asked, “How’s school, guys?”

“I passed my exams,” Miguel said.

“My English teacher loved my essay,” Lucia said.

They seemed very disinterested, their tones monotonous and sounding rehearsed.

Lucia put her utensils down. “Why were you guys late?”

“Oh, uh, we just had to deal with something at home first,” Robert replied.

That something was Clara’s crying fit. It had taken Robert more than thirty minutes to calm her down. The past few weeks had caught up to her and she had broken down. She wondered if her pillow was still drenched with her tears.

Another thud from under the floor, louder and stronger. Clara felt her toes vibrate for a second. She grabbed the table in shock and looked at her feet.

“Rats,” Lory said.

“Must be pretty big rats down there,” Robert said in a whisper that only Clara could hear. Perhaps he was catching on to her worries.

Lucia looked at Lory. “We don’t have much time, Mama.”

“It’s their fault they’re late,” Miguel said, staring at Clara.

“What are you guys talking about?” she asked.

Lory gently put her hand on top of Clara’s. “We want to help you, Clara.”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s going on, Lory?” That was Robert.

Lucia stood up and went beside Robert. The couple watched her just stand there for a second, then, as quick as a flash of lightning, she grabbed Robert’s head and pounded him hard on the table. His spoon and fork flew then dropped to the floor.

Clara screamed. She pushed her chair back and lost her balance, and she fell down.

Robert’s forehead was bleeding. Lucia banged his head again, and then he was unconscious.

“Robert!” Clara yelled, trying to get up. She had managed to get to her knees when Lory and Miguel grabbed her shoulders and arms, their fingers digging into her skin. “Let go of me!”

“Lucia,” Lory said.

The floor thudded again, then again. Whatever was down there was getting excited now that things were happening.

They all went to the living room, Lory and Miguel dragging Clara across the floor while Lucia went ahead. She pushed the coffee table aside and flipped the carpet to reveal a door on the floor.

“What the fuck is happening?” Clara screeched, her voice breaking and her eyes stinging with tears.

“I’m giving you what you want,” Lory said, “so you can give Robert and his parents what they want.”

Lucia opened the door on the floor with a creak like unflapping a cardboard box. She went down and opened the light down there. Mother and son dragged Clara closer to the opening. Clara tried to kick free, but their grip on her was strong. Her hands and feet were starting to go numb. Still, she managed to scratch Miguel’s forearm. He grunted but kept pulling her.

Clara, on top of the entrance to the secret basement now, saw the orange glow of the light. She heard a soft growl, and then she was pushed down. She fell. Her head hit the ground, and she was out.

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Some time had passed, and Clara finally woke up on the ground and with a headache. Coming into consciousness, her temples throbbed and everything she saw was a blur. She had to blink repeatedly for the shapes to take concrete form. Her hands and feet were tied with a thick green rope.

In front of her, Lory and the twins stood and watched her. Clara first noticed that things were sprouting from Miguel and Lucia’s arms and faces. It took her a second to realize that they were small twigs and mushrooms and yellow flowers. They clung to their skin like barnacles. On Miguel’s right arm where she had scratched him, a thick green liquid was oozing out.

She looked at Lucia’s face. Her forehead was dotted with tiny holes. A worm dug out from one of them, crawled across her skin, and entered another hole. Her shoulders were covered with brown and green leaves that stuck to her skin.

Miguel, on the other hand, had sticks growing out of his arms. On his wound where the green substance was leaking, a black beetle suddenly crawled out. It squirmed its way out of his skin, Miguel’s skin stretching like an elastic rubber band, and went to the back of his hand. It waited a second, then it flew to land on Clara’s face. She screamed and shook her head like she was rabid.

When the beetle finally flew away, Lory finally spoke. “Clara.” She looked normal, human. She didn’t have those things growing out of her.

“W-what’s happening, Lory?”

Lory ignored her question. She looked behind her, at the dark space of the room where the light didn’t quite reach the edges, before turning back to Clara. “You see, Clara, our house is special. Wait, no, that’s not quite right. The land this house was built on is special. It has very special properties.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“I would love to explain everything, but we don’t have time. It’s very fertile now but it won’t be for long.”

It? Fertile?

“This is very fertile ground,” Lory continued. “You know that before I had my twins, I had two miscarriages. It was why Bobby left me.” She paused, waiting for Clara to say something.

Clara only looked behind them, trying to see the black shape that was moving. It looked huge and was stirring.

“Well, this was my house, so he was the one to go. I cried a lot, of course. I wanted to kill myself, but one day I just decided to clean the house. You know, to try to distract myself. So I was cleaning, sweeping, mopping, all that shit, when I turned the carpet over and finally saw the secret door to the basement! How none of us had discovered it before, I didn’t know, but it was fate that brought me here.

“So I went down, because we’re a curious species. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, curiosity killed the cat, whatever. If my curiosity had killed me then, I don’t think I would have cared, anyway. This place had been empty on that day, just a dim light and the ground. It was an open space, so something inside me must have thought that this was safe, that no one could hear me. So I stood in the middle, and automatically, I cried. Loud cries and howls to finally release all that I was feeling.

“I probably cried for a good twenty minutes, when all of a sudden the ground started shaking. It made me stop. I thought it was an earthquake! I tried to stand but a vine popped out of the ground. This giant green vine that was slithering like a snake. I screamed and fell back to the ground. I was frozen in fear so I could only watch it. It came near me, then another one of those things dug out from behind me and pinned me to the ground, wrapping itself around my shoulders. The other vine came to me, pulled down my underwear, and. . . you know what happened next, I’m sure. By the time it was over, I was smiling. I had bled through the ground, and it drank my blood.

“I don’t know how pregnancies happen in nature, but the twins were born just two months later. I didn’t have a baby bump, no. It was the ground that got pregnant. Day after day I tended to this soil, watering and hugging and talking to it. Day after day, the mound got bigger, then finally it became a green, bloated plant with a pink flower on top. One day, when the twins were finally going to be born, the plant shook, and then it opened up. The two babies slid out covered in green goo. Their umbilical cords were vines and I had to cut them with garden shears because they were very thick. I still keep the cords in my room!

“You see, Clara, nature is good to you if you’re good to it. Nature will reward you if you give it what they want. And so, the same is going to happen to you. I’m gonna give you the baby that you wanted, Clara, and you’re gonna love it more than you’ve ever loved anything in your life.”

The ground shook, and the growl from the beast behind them grew louder.

“It’s time, Mama,” Lucia said.

A vine came from under the ground and grabbed Clara. She screamed as the vine wrapped around her stomach and pinned her to the soft soil. She tried to move but the rope around her hands and feet held her tight. It was at this moment she realized that they were not rope but vines.

“You will become a mother soon,” Lory said.

Miguel looked over his shoulder. “She’s ready, Papa!”

The three stood to the side. Clara screamed and screamed, waiting for the creature in the shadows to step into the light.

When it did, her screams died. The giant plant crawled slowly. It looked like a large green slug about eight feet tall that left a trail of goo. Its squishy body was sprinkled with dead flowers and brown mushrooms. On the front, the eyelid opened, revealing a humanoid eye, the iris a dark purple and with worms crawling around the eyelid. On its back, vines stretched and slithered on the floor, as if they had a life of their own.

It stopped by Clara’s feet. It raised its head, revealing its mouth underneath, a black hole with no teeth. It stayed in that position as the twins cheered for their father. After a moment, long green tendrils came out of its mouth and headed for Clara. It unbuckled her belt and unbuttoned her pants.

“This is the beginning of your motherhood, Clara!” Lory shouted.

“Please, no!” Clara screamed. “Don’t do this, Lory!”

The vines crawled out of the beast’s mouth. It growled.

Then, Clara heard footsteps, heavy thuds down the stairs. She tried to look over her head but she couldn’t see. A second passed, she blinked tears away, and an orange light—Lory’s lighter—flew through the air and landed on the creature. Immediately it was set ablaze. The vines retreated from her, releasing her.

The creature glowed a vibrant orange as it howled. It became a ball of flame. Lory and the twins ran to it, crying and sobbing.

“Father!” Lucia yelled, falling to her knees.

“What have you done?” Lory looked towards the stairs.

The green vines tying her hands and feet withered and turned frail and brown. Clara easily broke them and stood up. Turning around, she saw Robert. Half of his face was covered with blood from his bleeding head wound, but she had never been happier to see him.

“Robert!” Clara went to him.

“We need to save him!” Miguel was telling her sister.

They were so close to their father that the flames went to them, too. Their shrieks in unison with the creature’s was a symphony of madness. They fell to the ground and were then motionless.

“My babies!” Lory screamed.

“C’mon!” Robert took Clara’s hand and they ran to the stairs.

A vine reached out and grabbed Robert by the foot. He fell down and was pulled towards it. As he was being dragged, however, the vine caught on fire. One second passed, two, three, and then the beast exploded. Green blood splashed everywhere, coating everything with the thick sap. It smelled of grass and dead flowers.

Robert was still on the ground. As he tried to get up, Lory crawled on top of him and put her hands around his neck. “You ruined everything!” she shouted.

Clara, dripping with the green goo, wiped her eyes to clear her vision. Four feet on her left was a log. She grabbed it, approached Lory, and hit her on the head.

Robert took a deep breath, his eyes bulging. She helped him up.

On the ground, Lory was groaning. The twins were still on fire. The flames licked the green blood, and the fire crawled to the ground and up the walls, eating up the substance and bringing the whole room down.

Wordlessly, Clara put an arm around Robert’s shoulders. They went up the stairs as Lory’s screams echoed behind them, the flames eating her. They didn’t stop until they were out and across the street from the house.

It took a few minutes for the house to begin burning, but they didn’t stay to watch. The married couple, holding each other, walked down the street. The silence hung heavy, but they welcomed it.

“Fire! Fire!” another neighbor yelled a few moments later.

When Clara and Robert made it to their house, they entered the front gate and sat on the porch. A beat passed, and Robert put his hand atop hers. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Her adobo sucked,” Robert said. “The chicken was overcooked and dry.”

Clara chuckled. “I’m a better cook than her.”

“Yes, you are, honey.” He kissed the top of her head.

She turned her hand palm-up. They held hands, their fingers intertwined. In the distance, they could hear the blare of the fire truck.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” Robert replied.

Clara smiled.