“Mommy, that’s not a plant. It’s . . . something. . . else. Something awful.”
“Don’t be silly, Pumpkin. It’s just a plant. I just need to trim it back.”
“You can’t. You’ll see.”
“Of course I can!”
“No. It’s reaching up to find a way through the ceiling to my room. I’ll be gone one of these days.”
“Oh, my word! What an imagination you have! I think you’d better stop watching The Twilight Zone.”
A couple of months later, Pumpkin disappeared overnight. The neighbors thought Mommy went insane when she shredded the plant–until the shreds began to grow and reach and stretch. . .