The Beanstalk
The vine sprung up overnight. And now Jack stood on his front lawn, staring at the weed that covered the front of his house. It moved. For the love of God, it continued to grow. Every five minutes it seemed to be three feet longer.
“What are you going to do about it, hotshot?” brayed Jeanette from the porch.
The vine obscured his view of her.
“I said, what are you going to do about it?”
Jack thought about an ax. Then he thought about gasoline. Crash. The vine broke its first window, their bedroom window. Its fingers probed inside, he could see it creeping towards their bed.
“It sure is beautiful,” Jack offered.
Flowers sprouted in front of the porch, blotting out a little more of Jeanette’s wide profile.
“You lazy good for nothing, do I have to do everything for myself”
Jeanette pulled one of the flowers off of the vine. The vine lurched. She flailed at it, trying to push it away. It grew again, right around Jeanette’s wrists.
“Call Philippe,” she wailed.
Jack watched the gorgeous vine grow, engulfing her waist and wrapping her torso.
“You fired him yesterday,” answered Jack.
The vine covered her mouth. Her protestations muffled, then no more. Jack saw her eyes and he smiled.
“I told you not to fire a Haitian.”
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THE GOODS
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The Beanstalk, which
was posted on Jan 27, 2012 by
dumbricht.
This is a solo story.
About this story
"This is something I wrote for Eloosive's Daily Writing Exercises blog. The prom..."
This story is filed under:
Fable / Folklore
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