Blacker than black

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"The door." a voice said. "The door that leads home? Open... it?" a voice replied. "Yes.... Open it." Somewhere the click of a door opening echoed through the heart of its procurer, the voice that wanted home. Behind the door was a picturesque garden unseen before. It was not an Eden, nor was it wild, neither tame. The voice called again between a parting of fern trees and laurels. "Closer... yes.... Pluck the flower, pluck the flower and free the fungi they have bound by them as their slaves! PLUCK THE FLOWER!" The voice jived in a harsh whisper. "Yes girly, uproot the evil that plagues the unfortunate, spite the hate concealed in beauty. PLUCK. THE. FLOWER." The aforementioned girl, not knowing whether to find this just or harmless, righteous or concurrently deserving thrust out her arm with hand open, gripping the stem of the flower like a vice. Before uprooting the poor child from their mother, she noticed it seemed to shift in appearance, white, black, white, black, white, black. From an innocent being, to a mask of death, repeatedly undulated the perennial in an effort to conceal what it lacked.

"yeS...yES.....YES!!!! Stupid, stuPID, STUPID NAIVE CHILD!" BOUND HERE FOR SO LONG. WITHOUT TOUCH, WITHOUT FEELING, WITHOUT A WARM BODY TO SEEP POISON INTO ITS VEINS! They left me HERE. Selfish sisters.... How dare THEY... HOW DARE THEY ABANDON ME! I supply them with fungi and trap insects and this is what they leave me to, left to my own devices, left to deceiving humans..... I've no more pride.... BuT nOW I hAVE yOu... and I'm never letting go... you're obligated to love me." The voice... The voice had tricked her... and now as she wraps around the girl's arm and sews into her skin becoming embedded, entwined, one, the child knows she should have never come here. Mellea falls down, shuts her eyes, to the beating like a heart of this flower, this thing, this creature, now a part of her being. The last thing she will remember hearing, in her mind, "And now you'll die without me."

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