Microstory Monday

The Tooth Lotus
The nearest nursery worker is idly misting some sort of ivy when I approach.
"Excuse me," I say, showing him the little plant I've picked out for my Mother. "How much light does this need, do you know?"
His eyes narrow as he sees the plant. "No light," he says, and turns back to the ivy.
"No light?" I say, and lift the plant up to my eyes. "At all? Is it a moss or something?"
"No light," he says again. "And you will want three to five fresh teeth for the root ball."
"Fresh...what?" I start, confused.
"Teeth," he says, and turns back to me with an expression I don't quite recognize. "And water it with blood from the face. From the face, you understand?"
"Um...no," I say, and lift up the plant again. "Are you sure about this? The tag here says Azalea."
Without asking, he takes the pot from me. He stares at the tag and strokes the leaves.
"Right." he says finally, relaxing. "Azalea."
He hands the plant back. "Sun to partial shade. And keep it out of the wind."

Comments

[Shawn]

So that explains why those bushes in my yard didn't grow until the night after my bizarre gardening accident. The blood had to be from the *face*. I see.