“Night-Holly” or Ilex Nox for its botanical name. Apparently, Summer had found a batch online, she didn’t say from where. As Summer hands me the brown-unlabeled packet of seeds, something feels a bit off. “These aren’t even labeled,” I say, skepticism oozing from my voice.
“Listen, I know, but trust me, my source is very reliable. Those are Night-Holly. They produce beautiful purple seeds instead of red ones. I would plant them myself, but you know I just don’t have the time anymore.”
“Well, did your source at least say how you’re supposed to grow them?” I ask.
Summer gives me a slight smile, she knew I wouldn’t be able to resist a new plant. My garden was burgeoning with rare plants, collecting them had become a bit of an obsession. “You have to plant them in a shady spot that gets less than four hours of sunlight a day,” Summer pauses but doesn’t say more.
“Is that it?” I say.
“Well, there is one more thing,” Summer says, shifting slightly.
“Out with it, the suspense is killing me,” I say.
“You have to-uh, give it blood,” Summer says.
“Blood?” I say, taken aback.
“Not real blood just blood meal, and it’s got to come from pigs, not cows.”
“That’s awfully particular,” I say, looking at the packet of seeds in my hands with sudden apprehension.
“It’s something to do with the nutrient contents of the blood, that’s what the supplier said,” Summer says uncertainly.
I shrug, I’ve heard of stranger things for plants. “Thanks Summer, I’ll let you know how they come along. I owe you one.”
“It’s what gardening friends are for,” Summer says, tapping my shoulder. Summer gives me a wave and heads to her car, where her boyfriend is waiting for her. They drive away and I’m left on my doorstep, staring down at the seeds. Guess it was time to visit Amazon.
The blood meal arrived quicker than expected, and I wasted no time getting the seeds in the ground. There was a perfect spot in my garden, mottled by the shade of my Lychee and Rambutan trees, both dwarf Varietal.
I was proud of them, they grew exceptionally well, though being in Florida was obviously on my side. Getting the seeds out of the packet was a bit of a shock though, they were covered in tiny little hair-like thorns. I got impaled by one, so the rest were dumped straight from the packet rather than by hand. Despite such a small wound it made me drip blood onto the ground. I’d never had a thorny seed before, that was new.
Within a week the Night-Holly was already sprouting vigorously, I’d never seen a plant send up its leaves so fast. Especially a plant that was in almost complete shade. There was something else too, on the spot of my hand where the seed pricked me, I was getting a nasty infection. I went to see the doctor, got antibiotics, but it was only getting worse. There was something else even worse though. It feels crazy to even think about it. Last night, I could have sworn I heard a voice coming from my garden. I went out to investigate, flashlight in hand, my body sweaty with adrenaline. But when I got out there, no was there.
I’ve tried to tell my doctor about what is happening, about the voices in the garden, and my hand. But the doctor just looks at me like I’m crazy. “There’s nothing physically wrong with your hand,” the doctor had said.
“Do you not see the purple flowers shooting out of my hand?” I demanded. The doctor had grown silent. I left before he tried to commit me to an asylum or wherever they send deranged gardeners. I had called Summer and told her about how the voices were growing louder in my garden, how my hand was changing but she had remained silent on the other end. Now she had stopped answering my calls.
Its 2 Am and I hear the voices in the garden calling to me again. Before I couldn’t make out what they were saying. But tonight, I can make out the words. My hand is almost completely gone now, replaced by a flowering mass of purple leaves and berries. “Come, rest in our shade,” the voice says. I listen and obey. I find the Night-Holly, the mother of sleep, and I rest in her shade. The moonlight drifts through the leaves, perfect purple, and I find myself closing my eyes.
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