Radley's Home for Horny Monsters by Annabelle Hawthorne (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📕

poor thing was starving. “I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you sooner. I’m afraid I made a mess of things.” It was taking serious effort just to keep his eyes open now, the urge to sleep overcoming him. Already, the struggle inside of Sarah’s pitcher had ceased and her silhouette floated eerily in the center, likely to be dissolved over several days.

The pitcher that had been prepared for him was dragged away, and the larger vines released him. The creepers moved over his body, once more touching him gently where he had been cut. His whole body tingled in response. The leaves up above rustled, and a large piece of fruit fell, landing by his face.

“Heh.” Mike wanted to grab it, but lifting his arms was too hard. The Mandragora vines picked up the large, apple-shaped fruit and twisted it, breaking it in half. The first half was pushed against Mike’s mouth, and he greedily sucked at the surface, surprised at how juicy it was. He took small bites, his body flooding with warmth all the way to his toes. Once he’d finished the first half, the second half was promptly fed to him as well.

Then there was more rustling overhead and a coconut was dropped from above and caught before it could hit him. This was cracked open, the liquid poured down his throat.

“Yeah. Thatta girl.” Mike sipped at the coconut, which somehow tasted more like an orange. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the coconut wasn’t perfectly round-it had a tapered point. He couldn’t be bothered to wonder, however, and just kept drinking.

“I guess you’re not going to eat me after all,” Mike said, using his newfound energy to grab one of the larger vines and hug it tightly against his chest like a stuffed toy. The Mandragora lifted him, and built a hammock of vines beneath his tired body. Still holding the plant against his chest, he sighed, relieved that he had survived.

The Mandragora rocked him gently. Eyelids fluttering, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Welcome Home

Mike opened his eyes to waning sunlight through the canopy overhead. The jungle was quiet – a complete lack of animals meant that the only sound Mike could hear was the occasional rippling of the leaves as the wind brushed them against one another.

He lifted his head. He needed to get back. Though his slumber had been restless, he had clearly slept the day away. Groaning, he leaned out of the makeshift hammock and promptly crashed onto the ground, his legs unable to support his weight.

“Ow!” The numb sensation he had experienced earlier had passed. His legs burned as if full of fire ants, and his ankle felt like it had been twisted too far to one side. He checked his surroundings, then scooted around to look at the Mandragora.

Sarah’s pod had ominously sealed shut along the top of the mouth. The whole thing gently convulsed, a dark fluid flowing through its lower stalks and into the main plant body. Mike shivered, realizing that, if not for a memory, that would have been his fate too.

The Mandragora had left him presents. He was surrounded by more food, and another one of the coconut things to drink from. There was also an old branch that was the perfect height and thickness for a hiking staff. He shook his head in disbelief, then ate what little he could, drank the fluid from the hard-shelled fruit, and tried to stand with the staff.

It was slow going. The Mandragora dropped loops of vine for him to hold onto. As he got to his feet, his legs wobbled beneath him. He was in poor shape for walking.

The plant would take care of him, he was sure of that. But what of the others? What had happened to his girls? Was Cecilia okay? What about Abella? Tink was probably worried sick. He wondered if Naia knew that he was still alive and doing okay.

As if sensing his anxiety, thick vines gently stroked his arms, soothing him. The girls would have to figure things out on their own, at least until he could walk. Once that was possible, the next step was to figure out the best way to get home. There was no single path leading away from the Mandragora, which meant he may accidentally wander deeper into the jungle.

He had to try. He could just barely see the cliffs through the gap in the canopy, so he started walking toward them. Slow, clumsy footsteps were soon replaced with ones of strength and confidence. His body was no match for his determination, and once he got moving, it was far easier to stay moving than it was to stop.

After ten minutes of walking, he was already feeling a little better. His stiff muscles had loosened, and the staff kept most of his weight off his bad ankle. His ankle was swollen already, but he needed to keep moving forward. The path he followed was mostly flat, and for that, he was grateful.

Ominous silence accompanied him on his journey. Thick clouds rolled in, gobbling up the remainder of the sun’s light, and as dusk fell on the jungle, Mike was engulfed by the shadow of night. He realized how much trouble he was in when he could no longer discern the edges of the path, often stepping into a cluster of bushes. He clocked himself good on a low hanging tree branch, so he sat down on a nearby log to take a breather.

The silence was broken by the distant peal of thunder.

“Fuck.” Without animals to worry about, he had figured it would be a safe trek. Without any light to see by, and a storm blowing in, it occurred to him that staying with the Mandragora would have been a better idea.

Distant lightning gave him brief glimpses of the path, and he used them to hasten his journey. There was no way he was going to make it to the house