couldn't even finish the question.

She had her eyes closed again and was tracing something else in the air; a series of curlicues.

He looked down, alarmed to see vines shooting up from the ground between his feet. He should have turned and run. He might have made it through the orchard. Probably not, but maybe. Then it was just through the gate to freedom. Of course the towering holly hedges would have cut his clothes to ribbons, but naked, bruised, and bleeding is better than being living fertilizer.

But he didn't run, because she should have accepted the offer. They always did. Now five vines curled up and around his legs, and running was no longer an option. He could only gape as he felt the vines tighten around him, and the big green leaves tickled him where one vine went up his trouser leg.

"Morning Glory doesn't like the taste of flesh, so we'll have to find a more permanent...." She stopped and snapped her fingers. "That's it. Here Nessie." She called this last over her shoulder. Even as she spoke, he felt tendrils shoot out and wrap around his wrists, pulling his arms back into his chest.

The coils of topiary sea serpent came to life. It's head turned, and the man thought he saw eyes form in the tiny leaves, and blink.

He would have screamed then, but the vines had reached his neck and coiled up into his open mouth, choking off any noise.

As the sea serpent seemingly swam its way over to them through the lawn, he felt the ends of the vines snake up through his sinuses from the inside and tickle their way out of his nostrils.

He was having trouble breathing around the vegtation in his mouth as the serpent arrived, dipping its head over the women's shoulder. He watched her reach up and carefully pull off one of the giant, bushy fangs from the serpent's mouth. The vines had found his ears but they only dipped part of the way in before pulling free. This let him hear her bend down and scrape at the ground, even if the vines held him so tight that he couldn't look down.

"Mr. Colvin, ichor makes a wonderful rooting compound. You really should have been more reasonable." That was the last thing he heard, as he watched her stand and close her eyes, then slowly close one fist, squeezing it shut as if squeezing out the juice of a lemon. The vines tightened around him, and he knew no more.

...

The woman walked up to the gate, annoyed that he had left it open. As she pushed it shut, hearing the latch click, her neighbors walked by across the street, walking their shaggy mutt.

She smiled and waved at them. "Hi Robinses. Hey Skip, I'll have some bones for you Friday, boy."

"Hi Glory. How's your garden?"

"Oh, you know; I always seem to have good luck. I'm working on a new topiary, a bear this time. You'll have to come see it in a week or two. It will be just perfect by then."

They agreed, and walked on. Gail Robins turned to her husband and said, "That Glory is so nice." He nodded in agreement, and they turned in at their drive.

Learn more about this author, Terry Mahoney.
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