It had been a while since I had seen anything. No people, no buildings, nothing. I had been walking for so long, and I was so tired, so when I saw a city, I ran toward it. The gates to this city were huge. They were made out of wood and stone, and covered in vines. The gates were open, which seemed wrong, since it was the middle of the night, but I ignored that. Almost as soon as I walked into the city, I bumped into someone. I rushed to apologize, but it was just a mannequin. The clothes hung off the mannequin weirdly; they were baggy and loose even though they looked like they should fit an average person. The mannequin was wrapped in vines, just like the gate.
As I kept walking, I kept seeing more of these not-quite-mannequins. They were positioned in shops and market stalls as though they intended to make a purchase, but there was no one behind the counters. There was food in some of the stores, but I could smell it rotting from outside. Everything was crawling with vines, just like the first mannequin and the gates. Some of the shops still had music playing, but the recordings were messed up — they were scratchy and I couldn’t understand them, probably because of the vines.
I spent hours walking down street after street, each one full of shops with mannequin patrons and homes with fake residents. As I ventured further into the city, the buildings seemed more upper class. I think I even saw a castle in the distance. It looked like it was mostly made up of stone towers connected by an outside wall, but I was still pretty far away. Maybe there would be people there — I had to check.
Once I got closer, I could tell that the castle was also covered in vines; it even looked as though it was where all the vines led. There was a big wooden door on one of the towers on the outside of the castle. I walked through it, and up a musty spiral staircase that led to the top floor of the tower. There wasn’t anything up there, just some old benches and tables that looked like they would fall apart if I sat on them, and they were of course covered in vines. There were hallways leading into other towers, so I chose one and started walking.
When it seemed as if I was moving toward the center of the castle, the rooms started to look like there really had been people living here once, but now there were so many vines that I could barely walk without stepping on them.
I was walking through the top floors of the towers when I came across one that went up even further. This tower was full of potted plants. All of them were dead, and as I got closer to the top of the tower, more and more plants were crammed into every open space, but they were dead, too. The vines weren’t coming from any of these plants, and they were still leading upwards.
Eventually, I got to the top. There were even more plants in this room, all of them dead. There was a desk pushed against the far window, probably so all the plants crammed onto it could get light. There was a massive plant hanging above it, the only living plant, and it looked as if it was the source of every single vine in the city.
The only other thing on the desk was a notebook. As I approached the desk, the vines twitched. I flipped through the notebook: it seemed like someone was trying to design a plant that could move its vines and leaves on its own. I guess it had worked. The last entry in the notebook was shorter than the rest:
This seems like the one. It’s able to move its vines into sunlight and water without any prompt or assistance, and it can even wrap around objects to move them out of the way. The plant itself could be a little stronger, and I’m sure I could get it there, but I’ve been told to stop. They say that people have gone missing, and my vines have been found invading the city. They think my vines are taking people, but why would a plant need to eat people? They’ve also put out weird statues of people to try to distract the plant, as if it has eyes. This misguided attempt to save people from something that is not a threat would be laughable, if it weren’t so depressing.
In other news, I’ve noticed that the vines have been following me around, like they know I am their master. I truly have created something magnificent.
The notebook fell out of my hands. I felt vines wrapping around my wrists, my legs, my body, dragging me upward. I don’t think I’d describe this as something magnificent.
As I kept walking, I kept seeing more of these not-quite-mannequins. They were positioned in shops and market stalls as though they intended to make a purchase, but there was no one behind the counters. There was food in some of the stores, but I could smell it rotting from outside. Everything was crawling with vines, just like the first mannequin and the gates. Some of the shops still had music playing, but the recordings were messed up — they were scratchy and I couldn’t understand them, probably because of the vines.
I spent hours walking down street after street, each one full of shops with mannequin patrons and homes with fake residents. As I ventured further into the city, the buildings seemed more upper class. I think I even saw a castle in the distance. It looked like it was mostly made up of stone towers connected by an outside wall, but I was still pretty far away. Maybe there would be people there — I had to check.
Once I got closer, I could tell that the castle was also covered in vines; it even looked as though it was where all the vines led. There was a big wooden door on one of the towers on the outside of the castle. I walked through it, and up a musty spiral staircase that led to the top floor of the tower. There wasn’t anything up there, just some old benches and tables that looked like they would fall apart if I sat on them, and they were of course covered in vines. There were hallways leading into other towers, so I chose one and started walking.
When it seemed as if I was moving toward the center of the castle, the rooms started to look like there really had been people living here once, but now there were so many vines that I could barely walk without stepping on them.
I was walking through the top floors of the towers when I came across one that went up even further. This tower was full of potted plants. All of them were dead, and as I got closer to the top of the tower, more and more plants were crammed into every open space, but they were dead, too. The vines weren’t coming from any of these plants, and they were still leading upwards.
Eventually, I got to the top. There were even more plants in this room, all of them dead. There was a desk pushed against the far window, probably so all the plants crammed onto it could get light. There was a massive plant hanging above it, the only living plant, and it looked as if it was the source of every single vine in the city.
The only other thing on the desk was a notebook. As I approached the desk, the vines twitched. I flipped through the notebook: it seemed like someone was trying to design a plant that could move its vines and leaves on its own. I guess it had worked. The last entry in the notebook was shorter than the rest:
This seems like the one. It’s able to move its vines into sunlight and water without any prompt or assistance, and it can even wrap around objects to move them out of the way. The plant itself could be a little stronger, and I’m sure I could get it there, but I’ve been told to stop. They say that people have gone missing, and my vines have been found invading the city. They think my vines are taking people, but why would a plant need to eat people? They’ve also put out weird statues of people to try to distract the plant, as if it has eyes. This misguided attempt to save people from something that is not a threat would be laughable, if it weren’t so depressing.
In other news, I’ve noticed that the vines have been following me around, like they know I am their master. I truly have created something magnificent.
The notebook fell out of my hands. I felt vines wrapping around my wrists, my legs, my body, dragging me upward. I don’t think I’d describe this as something magnificent.