So Sweet, I Could Choke


It started with a scent. I was waking up from winter and had barely begun to bud, so I could only speak in creaks as the wind flowed around my branches. The smell was so heady, it threatened to put me back to sleep. But the buzzing of insects helped pull me from my torpor.

“Bees?” I croaked. “Am I late?” My buds tasted the cool air—no, this was the right time for bees though they never were this attentive so soon after the winter.

“Hush,” whispered a voice already flush with flowers and green. “No, you’re just fine. You can even sleep a little more. I’ll keep you warm.”

The wind blew again, but I was too tired to answer. My branches stirred slightly, and I could feel the weight of growth not my own. The scent flowed around me again, and I slept.


When I fully awoke, I ached to my sap. My promising buds had grown into spotted leaves, but they were strong enough to speak to a thriving patch of green on my biggest branch when the wind blew.

“What are you?”

“I’m part of you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Of course I am. Can’t you feel it?” The branch tingled with the flow of energy through filaments binding the new green fast to me.

“You were only a bit of fluff, blown onto my branches last year.”

“And you were once an acorn. Things change.”


Autumn came. I held on to my leaves for as long as I could. I heard the creaky sigh from the new green as the last one fell. It had spread to all my branches by then.

“You are part of me,” it said before we both slept.


And in the spring when the wind moved through the leaves again, I spoke with a voice that was no longer my own.

Song Choice: Circles by Kira

Liner Notes for this Groove: I'm in NYC for a long weekend visiting a dear friend (and for BookCon!). I couldn't help but notice a hauntingly beautiful scent on the wind near one of the city's large parks. When I commented on how lovely it was, one of the NYC citizens informed that it came from a pretty parasite that's been taking over a lot of the local trees slowly, but steadily. They bloom early to get the lion's share of the bees' and other pollinators' attention and spread a lot like dandelion fluff. I was told that the parasite even changed the shape of the leaves of the host tree eventually. When I finish up with BookCon, I want to find out more about this smothering beauty, including its name. But I find an extra level of creepiness in not knowing.

This short fiction piece is linked to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads Art Flash and Poets United's Telling Tales with Magaly Guerrero
Beauty Forgotten in Survival's Eyes by Eli Edward Evangelidis

50 comments:

  1. “You are part of me,” it said before we both slept.

    This is perhaps the scariest of parasitic truths.

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    1. Yep. It's really horrifying when you think how slowly but thoroughly something like that sinks its teeth in.

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  2. Love this! <3 Love the thought and execution of this

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  3. An excellent way to start a story, Rommy, with a scent in springtime! I love the tree able to only ‘speak in creaks’ and the alliteration in the description of the voice ‘flush with flowers and green’. Just the voice had me guessing what it could be that would keep a tree warm. I love the creepy ending.

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    1. Thanks Kim! LOL, yeah I found my inner poet wiggling to be heard with that alliterative bit. I really wanted to get a little dark with this one and I'm glad I could pull it off.

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  4. The voice of the intruder chilled me... It’s almost loving, which makes the intentions even more horrific. I hurt when the tree loses personality and voice. Those ending sentences cut in all sorts of ways.

    The tone and the pacing work so eerily well.

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    1. Yeah, I creeped myself out writing that terrifyingly sweet voice--which of course made me quite happy when I was done. :D

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  5. Nice personification. Was this inspired by Emily Dickinson? I know she often used bees as symbolism

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    1. Nope. Just my observations of a park in NYC with a light wind. LOL, what can I say? My mind works in weird ways.

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  6. There is something chilling with a parasite this beautiful... there is something so chilling with a parasite becoming really part of the tree... this could be a fairy tale but it's not

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    1. Not quite fairy tales are something of a specialty of mine. :D But I always love to hear it when I tap into that kind of energy.

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  7. This is incredibly dark and chilling! I get the sense of eternal battle between good and evil in this one. ❤️

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    1. I do believe such battles like this one have been going on since time began, and sadly continue on.

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  8. What I love about this is so rarely do we read imaginations so wed to nature. This isn't someone observing fluff on a tree in Central Park, but is inked in the very sap of the victim. And there's such a tender tree-slowness to this. Have you read Richard Powers' "The Overstory"? A novel about trees where humans are peripheral.

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    1. I haven't yet. But I'm definitely intrigued. I like things that come from a little of an off-beat POV. It's food for my imagination.

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  9. Oh, poor tree! I love the point of view.......this was cool to read. I always feel sorry for trees in winter. They must be so cold, naked as they are.

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    1. Thanks Sherry. I really wanted to play with a different sort of voice for this and had a blast doing so.

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  10. intriguing... and that last line!

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    1. That's what I was going for. Thanks Margaret. :)

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  11. And i love "you were once an acorn. Things change."

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  12. How delighted is the parasite seeing its victim losing battle! So deadly. It happens everywhere.

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    1. Yes. I'm delighted that I got that sinister quality in.

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  13. Very thought provoking! Loved the sinister beauty of your words. We, as humans, have much in common with this plant. Are we not parasites sucking the life from the very thing that nourishes us?

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  14. Ooooooh, that final line! Have fun in NYC!

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    1. It's a chiller, isn't it?

      I'm having a blast!

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  15. I sense a bad romance with an extremely cruel and domineering partner. Sad couple, too submissive other didn't help one bit.
    Lovely write, enjoy your conference.
    ..

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    1. When I finished writing it I saw that aspect too. Both are toxic relationships.

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  16. Rommy- this is amazing. I would like to know more about his too. Such an air of mystery in your write.

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    1. I am having the toughest time tracking down the exact name of the species. It turns out NYC is overrun with invasive/parasitic plant species!

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  17. OOOO, a horror story! With a bit of humor in its center: “And you were once an acorn. Things change.” I was surprised at the complete takeover, though I shouldn't have been. A hauntingly effective story.

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    1. LOL, just goes to show that even when I write horror, I can't tame my inner Little Miss Snarker. :D

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  18. This story reminded me of a disease that hit many maple trees in this area a few years ago. The smell was not sweet as it smelled of dying leaves. Many were worried trees would die, the disease spread from tree to tree. I am happy to report the maples are thriving this year and the disease did not take any lives.

    Your tree is mysterious as the write and I wonder what type of tree was this?

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    1. That's great news about the maples! Yeah, I haven't had any luck trying to figure out which invasive/parasitic plant species this is. I think I may do more poking around next time I'm in NYC.

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  19. Excellent tree story. Love the point of view and these lines in particular:

    "“You were only a bit of fluff, blown onto my branches last year.”

    “And you were once an acorn. Things change.”

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  20. Good writing - kudos on the direction you took the prompt in. Needless to say, the story became that much more compelling when, ultimately, it was pinned to the liner notes. It gave me pause - the idea of 'beautiful' destruction - because, when you think about it, the nebulous aesthetic of beauty (concrete cities, a flashy gas-guzzling car for every individual, etc.) is a big part of the reason we're in the environmental mess that we're in.

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    1. I think one of the things I really like about this piece is how many different ways it can be interpreted. "Beautiful destruction" can certainly be one way to see it.

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  21. What an engaging story Rommy I loved it. I often wonder whether we humans are a parasite too as we tend to destroy everything we touch; forests, rivers, seas and our fellow inhabitants!

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    1. It certainly seems that way when we look at the news doesn't it?

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  22. Great title! Followed by a story both enthralling and quietly horrifying. May we hear – REALLY hear – all such tales before it's too late!

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    1. Being open to when our intuition is throwing up warning signs has been the saving grace of so many people.

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  23. I find this story delightful, even with a scent that could choke. I especially like the answer, “I’m part of you.” because it just shows that all living things are connected. They grow and flourish as they lean on each other, even parasites play a role in an ecosystem.

    But how exciting to hear you are visiting a friend in NYC. I hope you (or your friend) will share your great finds from BookCon, and what you all got up to...lol!

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    1. Yes, I find it intriguing to look at the story from that angle as well.

      LOL, I'll share all the finds my children don't snap up from me right away (my daughter already squirreled away a few finds).

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  24. *shudder* Creepiness, achieved. :) This is awesome!

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  25. Oh, that last line is so dark, ominous. I so love this dark piece. It fits my mood.

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