By Rhiannon Cousins
She had lectured on carnivorous plants for decades; she knew there were no others this size. She also knew she should declare such a specimen, but no! After she died they could read all about it. Until then she would study it, document it, feed it. But this was no easy task. It needed more than the odd fly to keep it satiated. So she ran field trips for students she didn’t like. She stood back as they meandered among its giant, protruding trigger hairs… Then SNAP!
Digestion was not easy to watch, but for research purposes she couldn’t look away.
Oh how nasty! Deliciously so. A fun read.
Thank you. Glad you enjoyed.
Great – Little Shop of Horrors!
Thank you Angela
Finely cut little diamond.
Wow! Thank you Dante.
Appeals to my blacker humour, but as Angela indicates, it’s a little too close to the Geffen/Warner/ Oz ubiquitous masterpiece. Somewhere in the archives of my mind there is a notion of a similar short story by HG Wells – orchids I think it was.
But considering the word limit, not too shabby at all. The casual tone teeters between blithe sociopathy and absentmindedness. This can either add a sense of the deeper macabre or detract from the horror – yet in this dichotomy the story finds its own personality.
Thanks Perry. I haven’t seen little shop of horrors or read HG Wells but will have to check them out to see how The Botanist compares.