A Storm of Ivy

The ivy wraps around me.

Trapped. Trapped trapped trapped.

I stifle a scream.

It is a slowly warming summer day. Mother is sick, again, and I am looking after my little sister and my not so little little sister. Hannah, the older of the two, is sitting in the shade, her light hair pulled back into a relentless braid. Her focus is unbreakable as she stares at her book, turning the pages swiftly yet delicately. Ella is more cheery. Bright and quick and careless, but very sweet. She darts around me with a watering can, spraying me more than the seedling. Her short brown hair is wet from the water, and while I know I should tell her to be more careful with the water in case it doesn't rain for a while, I can't.

Hmm.

I kneel down and inspect one of the tomato pots.

"What's that?" Ella asks, briefly stopping her water wars to peer under me and look at the mysterious seedling growing in the rich dark soil.

I shrug, then ruffle her wet hair. "Not a tomato, that's for sure!"

"Hm? What are you talking about?" Hannah sets her book down and rolls into the sun, messing up her braid.

"There's a weird seed growing in Jackie's tomatoes!" exclaims Ella.

"Boring." She rolls back into the shade.

"It's fine, I'll just pull it out."

And I do. Until the next day.

"Huh," Ella says. "It's still there!"

Indeed it is, and twice as big. The stalk is emerald green with hints of amethyst trailing up the stalk. It is almost whimsical, with delicate leaves and tendrils.

"I wonder why," I muse, twisting my hair around my finger and then watching the chestnut curls spring free. "No matter." I grasp the stalk tightly between my fingertips and tug. The soil quivers but does not release the seedling.

"Let me try!" squeals Ella, delighted by the possibility of being stronger than her big sis. She, too, tugs with all her might, but it does not release.

"It's fine," I say again. "Let's just leave it. It's so feeble looking the next storm will uproot it for sure.

As if to test me, the winds howl that night. The rain pours down in gallons, and even Hannah stops reading to fill buckets and barrels with the sweet freshwater. Branches break and slender pines fall. But the next morning, the seedling stands taller than ever.

"Woah!" Ella exclaims. "It's as tall as me!"

By this point, I recognize it. Ivy. But there is no way it should be able to grow that tall that fast.

I pour over botanical books and scrolls that night, until my gas lamp flickered out and the final tallow candle ran down. After that I ran outside and caught fireflies until there was enough to light up a jar.

I run my finger down the pages. There's nothing that resembles the plant outside, image wise or description.

Hmmm. I blow book dust off my fingertips and pull an even more ancient tome off the shelf. The title glints with tarnished silver.

Magical Plants: Extinct, Alive and Rumored!

Fifth Edition

Now with sections on Draconic flora!

If this isn't a normal plant, then maybe it's...

With a thud, I plonk the book down on the table. The fireflies flap up quick, and one falls down, dead or shocked. Dust rises in the dim light and I quickly flip to the index. Alice-in-a-Toadstool, Aquarian blooms, belladonna, Belinger blossoms... Toadstools: amoeba, healing, poisonous, sightseeing. Oh, too far.

Lacous Harpy wartflower, jellyberry... ivy!

I move my finger across the page. Pg 153.

I flip quickly and land on the page. I recognize it immediately, the book is organized alphabetically. Deathnote ivy.

I skim through statistics and traits. Poisonous, killer, deadly. Upon maturity, it releases a drug laden gas into the air designed to paralyze and confuse. Not to be confused with the pink berried ivy, which produces sweet, harmless flesh. The dripping purple berries of deathnote ivy are designed to kill. If the seeds have not been swallowed there may be hope if you get to the victim immediately...

This plant is thought by some to be critically endangered and others believe it to be made up. Sightings are very rare regardless. They are attracted to acidic fruits, and will often feed off the plant's nutrients before overpowering it. Keep your tomatoes, lemons and other citrus netted with fine mesh to protect.

My breath hitches in my throat. I start to stand up, but a tendril snakes around my ankle. I open my mouth to scream but another stalk wraps around my head and I slip slowly into the darkness.

Jackie.

Jackie, wake up.

I look around. I am surrounded by darkness, but I get up.

Jackie, you have to remember.

Remember what?

Wake up!

But why?

Jackie, what about Hannah and El--

"Hannah! Ella!" I scream their names as I fight my way out of the drug induced haze. My eyes cast down to the table. The ivy has scooped up the firefly jar but it still casts down its dim light. I see my candle holder with little more than a puddle of wax residing in the cheap tin. There is my rough clay plate with an apple core and some cheese crumbs, and...

A silver knife. The knife I used to cut my apple lies tilted at an angle, but still very much there, on the table.

I lunge, and my fingers nudge it closer. I grasp at it and--

Slice!

Plant juice sprays out. The ivy restraining me recoils. I grab the firefly jar and run upstairs...

Hannah and Ella are cowering behind a ceramic jar. Hannah holds a simple kitchen knife and is brandishing it at the ivy, but it won't keep it back much longer.

"Watch out!" I call, and move in to cut the ivy. Green liquid leaks from the stems. "Don't touch," I warn as Ella puts a finger to touch it. I grab her hand and Hannah's and pull them outside. "Stay back," I warn, as I run to the tool shed. I look around. Ah. Our extra barrel of lamp oil. I haul it outside and begin pouring it anywhere I see the plant. When the oil runs out, I pull a matchbox from my pocket and strike a match once, twice, three times before it lights.

"Jackie?" I hear Hannah's uncertain voice.

I drop the match.

WHOOSH!

Our house went up in flames that day, but I collected a few burned samples and sold them to researchers. We made a lot of money. And we might have lost our home, but we didn't lose our lives.