Page 120 of The Tenth Muse

Guilt floods through me like fire in my veins when I first think of that night, how much she cried and roared from pain at her teeth growing and puncturing through her plant flesh. She was insatiable, with an appetite that grew daily, making it so that no amount of worms or flies were enough to fill her.

Her size tripled within a week and she graduated from insects to small scurrying rodents around the shop. When I started to work harder than an outdoor cat, I improvised.

I had to hunt elsewhere, provide fresher kill for Chewie.

You can give a woman a fish, and she will feed her plant for a day, but if you put a bar next to her house where drunk men are guaranteed to, without a doubt, continuously prove to pose a threat to her safety … well, she will feed her plant for a lifetime.

And from their meat and bones Chewie grew and continues to grow. Now four months in, I fear it may be too late. I know there’s a soul in there and all I can do is help sustain her.

I think America sees it too.

Her voice is filled with an incredulous type of amazement. “She’s … she’s sentient?”

It would be impossible for anyone observant enough to miss it.

Chewbacca purrs into her hand, a different version of the plant coming out than the vicious, blood-thirsty, bitch who has been feeding on Wall-street jerky just a few hours prior.

Her tongue flops out, sticky plant goop that resembles saliva coats America’s hand.

“Chewie!” I chastise, “She’s not usually like this,” I try to explain but the girl only laughs.

“Chewie?”

“Short for Chewbacca,” And just as I say it, my good girl gives out her best impression of the beast, the gurgling noises coming from a place no one but Baphomet himself may know about.

America’s laugh is even louder now, full of amazement and warmth. It makes the room feel like summer, it makes my chest hot and the feeling runs all the way down my spine to?—

“She’s incredible.” She breathes out.

I chuckle, my eyes glued to where America’s collarbone meets her shoulder, watching the way it moves just slightly with each of her exhales. “She is.”

four

. . .

America

I’ve never seenanything like it in my life.

Her?

It seems the plant is more than just alive, it’s sentient, it’s feeling, it’s not just foliage and plant cells photosynthesizing. I can sense something more in there, in the depths of who she is. She even purrs, like a happy kitten nuzzling into the palm of my hand.

It feels just as good too, shoots the same kind of chemicals into my brain that trick me into believing this is enough for happiness.

And it truly might be.

I don’t ever want to be away from this plant. I love all of them, I have ever since I was a little girl, studying them under toy microscopes, picking flowers to turn into potions and perfumes and eventually, I grew up, and I knew I wanted to really understand them.

A degree was a waste of my time according to Williams and my father. Especially useless when it just furthers an interest that will only serve to annoy whatever future spouse my dad willsomeday choose for me. It’s as exhaustive to think about as it is to get through the sentence alone.

“She’s incredible.” I try to say but I’m too dumbfounded to be sure if the words even make their way out of my mouth.

“She is,” The witchy woman chuckles, her arms crossing over her chest now that she’s given up on trying to expel me from the room.

She’s absolutely breathtaking, but this time it isn’t that plant that’s caught my attention. Raven hair down to her low back and bright green eyes that see right through me. It’s nearly uncomfortable how deep her gaze burrows into my soul, just from a passing glance. She’s wearing a simple tunic, from her elbows all the way to her knees covered in black fabric and for shoes she sports beetlejuice Sandworm house slippers.

There’s blood all over her, splattered on her face, smeared over her clothes, her entire arm covered in the dried stuff all the way up to her elbow as if she just recently had been in a drive-by fisting. That’s when I finally look at the entire room surrounding us; it’s messy as hell, eclectic, with crystals and tapestries slung all around the place. Aside from the blood and chunks of flesh everywhere and the giant Venus fly-trapthing, there isn’t much out of the ordinary here for a metaphysical shop.

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