A spooky story about an old house:
The last owner left without taking her plants.
That shouldâve been my first clue.
I found them when I moved inâthree succulents on the kitchen windowsill, still alive. Plump and green. The realtor muttered something about âleft in a hurryâ and changed the subject when I asked why.
The plants thrived. Iâm normally a serial plant killer, but these things were indestructible. They grew fastâtoo fast. Within a week, theyâd doubled in size. I moved them to bigger pots.
Then I noticed something odd. Each morning, theyâd be facing a different direction. Not toward the lightâtoward the bedroom door. All three of them, leaves angled like they were watching.
I laughed it off. Plants donât watch things.
But I started closing the bedroom door at night.
Last week, I woke up at 3 AM. The house was silent except for a faint⊠rustling. Scratching. Coming from the kitchen.
I crept out of bed and pushed the door open.
The plants had moved. They were sitting in the middle of the floorânot knocked over, but ârelocatedâ and arranged in a triangle. And in the center, spelled out in potting soil:
FEED US
I packed a bag that morning. Put the house up for sale that afternoon.
I walk by that house sometimes. Someoneâs already moved in. I thought about warning them, but what would I even say? The new owner seems excitedâshe mentioned she loves gardening.
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