Who's afraid of nightshade?

A decaying screech from the decrepit old gate

announcing my earnest arrival,

at first glance, I planned inside of my head,

a dire need for tremendous revival.

The grass blades were lanky and monstrous,

all tangled in an effortless war,

as if extended and stretched out this way,

like many years grown before.

There were tendrils polluting the cottage,

it was drowning and fully submerged,

every edge, every wall was besieged

by the contagious, irreversible surge.

towering trees with leaves of all colours,

and climbers contended for space,

a neglected back yard, forgotten by time,

with a sturdy thirst now to encase.

I examined the Jungle with admiration and awe,

a secret old labyrinth of green.

Natures small forest and true scenic vision,

no other bold human has seen.

This abandoned, forsaken wilderness

grown corrupt, abrupt like a maze,

The wonders of madness and treasures resound

I perceived with every small gaze.

They’d be a humid and tropical heat

by the peak of the new summer’s noon,

I gathered my tools and promised myself

that the work would commence very soon.

I struck the door twice with a welcome,

with the echoed repeat from the handle,

an elderly man, with a snarl on his face,

appeared wearing a pair of soft sandals.

He greeted me wearily and worried,

confused with a low, chesty cough,

My instincts prevailed, unknown by the cause,

and quickly began to back off.

The old man scanned me profoundly,

his cheeks a flushed berry red,

His eyes were so sombre, blood shot in corners

and blacker than deadliest dead.

He huskily approved of the labour

for the grounds to be cleared and renewed,

He surveyed the whole cottage, cataloguing all issues,

and politely sounding quite rude.

There were bushes outstretched with ripe berries

of every formed shading of blue,

Thorns so extensive they could splinter or shred

or decide to severely harm you.

Every flower deemed twisted, grappling at life,

a sadistic, outrageous abundance,

the hushed lifeless howls, they seek for redemption,

nevermore made so redundant.

This would take me some time, I thought to myself,

an epic plan of such worth,

renewal expanded, the safe keep of the garden  

the rebirth of the forsaken earth.

The old man withdrew and crawled back to his home,

his bitter presence unmissed,

His commitment unhindered, not a doubt in his mind,

and his rushing decree to desist.

He swaggered throughout at his senior pace

all the way along the cold trail,

The sudden prompt in the back of my mind

of a fragile and ancient old snail.

“Lacerate it all, chop it all down,

every single green tint in view,

but there’s one reprimand, one thing I besiege,

that I extend onto you,

If you find it, don’t cut it, the nightshade is cursed

and the devil himself shall soon know,

Uncertainty and confusion are sure to follow,

and your blood forever shall flow.”

The man concluded his warning,

a grave, villainous stare in plain sight,

his eyes beheld such a darkness,

his complexion transformed a cold white.

He never turned round or backed up his word,

he only continued his hike,

His injunction foreboding, a warning so bitter,

gave every nerve a sharp spike.

I inspected for a while and studied profoundly

for this rare perennial plant,

Its attractive dark nature, it’s caused to deceive

and a bittersweet left to enchant.

I scanned every open location,

its emergence and presence concealed,

wherever it rested, wherever it hides,

the camouflaging lingered concealed.

I was a sceptic to the caution, utter nonsense perhaps,

such teasing a troublesome doubt.

But I stayed focused, aware, and urge for such care,

of where this flower hid out.

The heated summers day drew in brighter;

the fever slowly took over the lawn,

time had escaped me, so unnatural to believe

that I had been here since dawn.

The overwhelming observance, a thirst to commence

and the difficult day to begin,

The sheer thought of exhaustion by the end of the day

gave me shivers throughout my own skin.

I began with the thorns, they were flourished unkempt,

commanding unruly by far,

They were tangled and twisted, coiled, and snarled,

around the old mans parked car.

They were thick knots all snarled, with devious intention,

stabbing you blindly with ease,

I clung hard to the shears, demolishing madness,

watching their sanity seize.

I felt the minor, sharp tugs on my clothing

and the tiny displays of revenge,

But I stood there, unflinching, never defeated,

competing hard to avenge.

It could’ve been the heat, my delusion surprised,

as every time a thorn dropped,

I could have sworn I heard someone crying,

and it suddenly stopped when I stopped.

It was a shriek so shrill in the distance,

very muffled and muted more so,

it puzzled me greatly, a sound so obscure,

of the hidden secrets below.

I swept the sharp loops to the back of my truck,

as they tried their best to break free,

stacking them neatly, and picking them up

as they challenged and tormented me.

Floral needles and blades laid around me,

a thousand leaves perished so quick,

This garden a graveyard of such arduous proportions,

our mother earth left to be sick.

I attacked and slashed back so exhausting,

the decaying perennials dried up,

I removed every inch, with a snip and a pinch

every annual I seized to take up.

There was weeding and fence work outstanding,

lifting fiercely the unwanted shrubs,

I laid the fresh flowers and infancy bulbs

 from soiled moist capturing tubs.

There were dahlias and chrysanthemums aplenty,

in desperate need of some light,

Sunflowers and Tulips now dead for some time

that had surely grown to such heights.

Roses and Marigolds displayed ever proudly,

defeated like trophies forgot,

lilacs and Orchids, Daisy’s, carnations

collected but buried in rot.

Replanting, removing, potting, and pinching,

my hands beginning to ache,

Watering, weeding, staking unflinching,

never stopping to take up a break.

There was so much accomplished in the time that I had,

but still much to care for and do,

I embraced my achievement, of this crippled bereavement,

and over cherished my view.

I had been here for hours, or so it had seemed

 and not a single nightshade in sight,

Was the old man just lying, just jokingly trying,

to induce a pathetic small fright?

I glanced over my shoulder to check on the man,

to the small, homely cottage he kept,

the man was just staring, spying uncaring,

looking frail and weary, unkempt.

I felt the warm sunshine, blazing its heat

 enduring me close to defeat,

the taste of iced water, the quenching of thirst

 effectively calming the heat.

I could feel beads of sweat now descending,

saturating both sides of my face,

The next chapter of this challenge was about to begin,

and I readied my muscles embrace.

I walked back to my truck now fatiguing

and seized my cordless lawn mower,

I adjusted each blade with precision and care,

so the trimmer would cut much more lower.

The lawn was quite large, but seemed larger to me,

about thirty meters or so,

I stretched out each muscle, and clicked a few bones,

 feeling eager and ready to go.

The mower roared to life, thirsty for work,

defiantly racing the turf,

it erupted with power, attention prevailing,

slowly mauling the deathly green earth.

I steadied my movements, assuring each length

was perfectly precise without flaw,

the smell of trimmed blades in the warm summers breeze

was a sense that I couldn’t ignore.

It took over an hour and trips in between

from the truck to the freshly cut green.

There were several bags all tied up so neat

and the grass looking ever so clean.

I picked up my rake to finish the job,

some leaves and old petals surround,

there were remnants of grass blades in tufts of small piles,

and something quite dark on the ground.

I started to clear the odd patches,

as I knew, but refused to take heed,

it’s as if I had ruptured, destroyed back and punctured

this plant from a nightmare to bleed.

I knew the inked petals completely,

I knew what I done was now done,

There was no more redoing, or hopeless renewing,

the erupted curse slowly begun.

The dingy black petals began to dissolve

and slowly pollute the stale air,

like watching a passing, faint spectre,

disintegrate so unaware.

They fell upon the now shaded ground

a noiseless, brief touch that could be,

but then I could feel my worried, ill nerves,

exploding inside of me.

The ground beneath me just trembled,

 as if reviving up hell,

the skies clouded over, so swiftly and troubled,

like storms would complete this dark spell.

The hard raining began so sudden, so dense,

as if omens were present at play,

the sheer darkness and trouble thrust now upon me,

I was long overdue past my stay.

I forgot all my tools all around me

and scrambled with pace for my truck,

But something swift and quite sturdy

had attached itself, promptly stuck.

I struck the ground with a heavy, firm force

that captured me completely off guard,

It had been quite a while since I could recall

of being hit solid that hard.

something snake like had gripped my right leg,

and held on accomplished for life,

it felt like sharp needles were poking on through,

tiny jabs penetrating like knives.

The skies, my surroundings, grew much darker now,

I couldn’t see reason or cause,

but I couldn’t just wait or rest on the floor,

and leave myself here on pause.

I dug in my fingers to the swamp like drenched earth,

clawing so hard to escape,

It seemed to be working, I felt myself freeing,

my breakout plan taking such shape.

Another repulsive snake creature

had clenched tightly my other strong leg,

I could feel myself slipping, the rain ever dripping,

my vocals did nothing but beg.

There was no escape or relief

from the tendrils that had taken control,

there was nothing to grip and no one to help

and effortless prayer to console.

I could feel them now squeezing, crushing my legs,

impaling their pins evermore,

It constrained me so tightly, ever relenting,

holding me firm to the floor.

The rain had now drenched me, soaking my clothes

and left me to die on this earth,

I couldn’t disturb this, prevail now or break this,

so much to my own adverse.

The nightshade curse had seized me so tight,

and determined to never let go,

the vines that were crushing, slithered on upwards,

and continued its mission to grow.

I could feel my lower half numbing,

as I scrambled and reached for release,

but my fingers found nothing, no gripping, just slipping,

laying there thick in such grease.

The thunder was roaring enraged,

the flashes lit the skies up for miles,

the tendrils kept stabbing, squeezing, and jabbing,

I was raging along with its trials.

The damp terrain shook forcefully once more

as I lay there unable to flee,

No matter how much I thrashed out and flailed

I knew that I couldn’t be free.

the vines were compressing my chest now,

struggling even harder to breathe

I could feel them pulling me downwards now,

like a sword about to be sheathed.

The cold was still piercing, the rain now a flood,

engulfing my body with ease,

The mud had become a gelatinous swamp,

eating me up to my knees.

I cried for a rescue, but no one appeared,

caught up in the eye of a storm,

I thought of the old man, inside his cottage,

unaware of my need to be warm.

The vines started strangling, constricting my movements,

my legs were now frozen and buried,

my body was threatened with early damnation,

towards this new doom I was carried.

I cried out for freedom but my body imprisoned,

cut off from the world I once knew,

no one could hear me, or save me or steer me,

This pestilent craving was due.

This foreboding warning of evil incarnate,

submerging me lifeless in time,

my body grew weaker, as it dragged me in deeper,

through the soggy and stinging cold grime.

There was no more escaping and nothing to grab,

I’d soon be encased in the ground,

No one would find me, and no one would know

my soul was now sentenced hell bound.

the vines clasped my neck, I choked on the air,

It squeezed out the last of my life,

the last thing I noticed before I was buried,

as the tendrils kept stabbing with knives.

The old man before me, knelt down on his knees,

and lifted my head up so still,

he could see how much pain, every bruise, every vein,

who the curse of this plant would now kill.

“I gave you my warning, my injection salute,

you ignored it and killed my dear plant,

like the last one before you and more will be welcomed,

to the ground I gladly will grant.

The garden looks clean and fresher once more,

I thank you for that from my heart,

but you must understand that this is the end,

these plants here you see are so smart.

My dear wife the same, she hindered the curse,

she thought it a game or false truth,

Now you will believe me, stop begging to be free,

My nightshade will regain it’s youth.

You will feed it your body, and life it shall have,

to carry its grim natured fate,

I request you now rest, my hard working guest,

to support the growth you create.”

With that the old man pushed down on my head,

It sunk down with ease in the mud,

I could hear the rain patter, echo wildly and scatter,

as the soil now mixed with my blood.

THE END.